


Spreading Wings

by chalcopyrite



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalcopyrite/pseuds/chalcopyrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance was never meant to be a dragonrider -- but now that he is, he has to figure out his place in the Weyr.  Luckily, he has help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spreading Wings

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand thanks to Pensnest, who not only beta'd draft after draft of this and refused not to notice where I had left things out, but who drew the fantastic art included in the story.
> 
> Her art masterpost is [here](http://pensnest.dreamwidth.org/413511.html); please comment and share the love!
> 
> WARNING for canon-typical issues of dubious consent.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut and fought down a sigh before re-focusing on the big slate at the front of the training room. The instructor was explaining the intricacies of a particular flight pattern, and Lance couldn't see how it was any different from the previous one he'd copied down on the old, stained hide in front of him. He dropped his chin onto his hand and sketched out a few lines over in one corner. He'd had an idea…

"Trainee J'mes! Am I boring you?"

It took Lance a second to react to the unaccustomed name, and then he sat bolt upright. "No sir!"

Instructor W'son glared at him from his spot by the slate. "Good. I don't know what you're used to at the _Hold_ , but in this Weyr, you're going to have to work." 

Another trainee snickered, and W'son turned on him as quickly as he had on Lance. "T'lin, can you identify the vulnerability of this maneuver?"

"Uh—" T'lin stammered at being put on the spot. "The browns are too spread out?"

"Nice try, but no." W'son turned back to the slate and raised his chalk again. "When the smaller dragons at the edges of the Wing drop down to cover the lower-level Thread, they're at higher risk of flying into charred Thread fragments. Be alert to that…"

Lance had copied down three more diagrams of maneuvers before the Weyr bell rang to signal the midday meal, and all the trainees spilled out into the sunshine. Lance dawdled behind the others, only exiting the instruction room when everyone else had already left and formed into clumps in the open space outside. He looked around, not making eye contact with anyone; they'd all grown up together in the Weyr, and he was sure an outsider — a Hold-born outsider, no less — didn't stand a chance of getting in with any of the established groups. Especially not when W'son kept reminding everyone that he was a stranger to the Weyr. Lance ducked his head and started for the entrance to the communal eating hall.

 _Lan?_ The plaintive question stopped him in his tracks only a quarter of the way there. _I'm hungry._

Lance rubbed at his eyes. Right, Amarth had been waiting all morning too, and she needed feeding more than he did. "Coming. Meet me at the feeding grounds."

He changed direction, feeling her anticipation in the back of his mind as he hurried towards the feeding grounds. He heard a wistful _Hungry,_ again as he arrived, not the usual wordless, bloodthirsty delight she felt in bringing down her own wherry. When he got in sight, he could see why -- the feeding area was occupied by two big browns, and they didn't show any sign of moving. One of them sprang into the air as he watched, and Amarth tensed to jump herself, but the brown just went back for another beast. Amarth sent Lance a wordless whine at having to wait, and he soothed her as best he could. "You're not going to starve if you have to wait five minutes."

She sent back a grumpy sense that she was pretty sure she _could_ if she had to wait too long.

Two more dragonets arrived — blues, from the same hatching as Amarth, no doubt, but Lance still wasn't much good at telling dragons apart when their riders weren't with them. They perched together on a jut of rock a little ways away, switching their tails like they were just as eager as Amarth for the adult browns to finish up and let them at the wherries.

Dragons. Bottomless pits.

_I'm not a pit!_

"Of course you're not," Lance soothed, rounding the fenced-off feeding area to join Amarth. He already had to reach up to shoulder-height to scratch her eye-ridges, but she tipped her head into his touch the same way she had when she was only waist-high. "Did you have a good nap?"

_I slept lots. Hungry now._

"I heard that, yes." One brown, then the other, finally finished crunching bones and launched into the air. Amarth hissed happily and gathered herself, but the two blue dragonets moved first, pushing off their perch and cutting across her route to the wherry pen.

_No fair!_

"Hey!" The exclamation came from the side, and Lance turned to see two other trainees nearby. The shorter, black-haired one was glaring at the dragonets, and after a moment one, then the other, turned back, returning to their crag of rock with ducked heads. They looked for all the world like children who'd been chased out of the kitchens for trying to steal pastries.

The same trainee nodded at Amarth. "You should go first."

"Thank you —" Lance started, but Amarth hadn't waited on ceremony. She flapped up and darted towards the penned wherries, dropping immediately on a fat, slow one. It was almost too big for her to handle yet, but she hauled it back over the wall and landed with a thump near Lance. The blues didn't wait for any further direction, picking their own quarries just as quickly.

Lance folded his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for the messy bits to be over.

"You're J'mes, right?" Lance bit back an automatic correction — that's my father, not me — and nodded. He had to get used to the name — it wasn't like his use-name was at all pronounceable as a dragonrider's honorific, and there wasn't anyone else named Jemes around for him to get confused with now.

"Yes. Ah, that's Amarth." He tipped his head towards the young green, currently covered in wherry guts and fluff. She looked up when she heard her name.

_Can I have another?_

Lance smiled at her. "Go on, then."

She hummed happily and pounced on a second wherry, smaller than the first but still fit for a Hold feast day. She settled in the same spot with it and started crunching.

"I'm sorry," Lance told the other two trainees. "I don't remember everyone's names yet."

"I'm Cr'stoff," said the one who had called off his blue. "This is J'sha."

The taller one smiled so wide his eyes crinkled up. "On Talath," he said, tipping his head towards one of the blue dragonets. "It's nice to meet you."

"Right, mine's Mesarth," said Cr'stoff, pointing at the other one. "So how'd you end up here, if you're from a Hold? I didn't think they were doing Search for this clutch."

"Cris!" J'sha scolded. He started to say something else, but Lance was distracted by Amarth yawning and stretching, then curling up into a ball with every apparent intention of going back to sleep.

"Oh, no, you don't," he told her, scrambling over the low wall. "If you don't wash off now, it'll take hours to scrub that mess off you."

 _But I'm tired now._ She blinked at him appealingly.

"You can sleep as soon as you've washed off," Lance coaxed. "Come on, you know you like the lake." He suspected he sounded like old Gritha, who had minded him when he was small and still looked after the flock of Hold younglings. "It won't take long."

 _Fine._ Amarth uncurled herself and took a few steps before launching herself for the lake. Flight came naturally to dragons, but her take-offs were still a little wobbly at times. Lance watched until he was sure she was steady, then backtracked out of the feeding area and started the long way around towards the lake. He remembered at the last minute to wave goodbye to the two trainees, but they weren't even looking his way, absorbed in a scuffle between their dragonets.

Time for Lance to eat before he had to be back for the afternoon session of instruction — doubtless more diagrams — was running out, but he couldn't grudge Amarth time playing in the shallows of the lake, shaking her head so droplets flew out like a rainbow and spattered Lance head to foot. In between playing, she even got clean; Lance left her curled up in a small, sunny corner of rocks and just had time to grab a meat-roll from the eating hall and bolt it down before he was late.

*

By the time W'son let them go that evening, Lance had an entire new set of diagrams noted down on his old hide, and he was sure his brain had turned to sand and trickled out his ears. It was ridiculous — all he'd been doing was sitting at a desk, but he felt like he'd been pitching fodder-bales all day. 

He was concentrating so hard on collecting his notes without smearing them that he didn't even notice Cr'stoff was next to him, until the other trainee tapped him on the shoulder.

"Whoa, whoa, just me," Cr'stoff said, stepping back and holding his own notes up in front of himself. He ducked and picked up the hide Lance had sent flying when he startled. "Ah, before you tried to fly without your dragon, I was going to ask if you wanted to eat evening meal with us, but now I'm worried it'll startle you too much." He widened his eyes at Lance and handed back the hide.

"Eat with - who's us?"

Cr'stoff waved his empty hand. "Me, J'sha, a couple of others you haven't met yet. The very best people to know, of course." Lance hesitated, and Cr'stoff added, "We don't eat green riders, promise." He grinned wide, showing off all his teeth.

"Sure, but — why me?" Lance asked, puzzled.

Cr'stoff shrugged, flapping his scrap of hide. "You're new. You're different. I've been talking to the rest of these dimglows since all we could do was cry, I need someone who hasn't heard all my jokes." He took another step back. "Suit yourself, I just thought I'd make the offer."

He did some sort of complicated-looking nod, and was gone out the door before Lance could finish saying, "All right."

 _Lan?_ Amarth asked. _Are you all right?_

Lance gathered up his styluses again, slowly, piling them on top of his scribbled-on hide. "I suppose so," he said slowly. Cr'stoff didn't seem — well, no, he _did_ seem like the kind to play jokes, but Lance hadn't felt that he was setting Lance up for something. "I just wasn't expecting it."

 _His dragon is not bad,_ Amarth said abruptly. _When he is not pushy. He says Cr'stoff does not always joke._

"That's reassuring," Lance muttered. "I don't suppose you're hungry?"

_Not yet. Later._

"If you're sure." Lance really couldn't arrange his notes any more carefully. He straightened up and took a deep breath. "I'll — go eat then."

 _I think it smells good,_ Amarth observed. 

Lance tried not to think too hard about what a dragon considered a tasty meal, and crossed over to the Lower Caverns.

He collected his tray of food, and had only just started to look around the hall when he heard a yell.

"J'mes!"

He looked over and saw Cr'stoff, standing up on a bench and waving his arms. A curly-haired blond trainee next to him was trying to keep him from falling off, but didn't seem inclined to stop him yelling. Well, it was either go join him, or have even more people staring. 

Cr'stoff had climbed down by the time Lance reached that table, and was pushing at the blond to open up a space on his other side. "J'mes!" he said again. "I thought you'd changed your mind and decided to run away."

"Sorry, I was — tidying up," Lance muttered. The space on the bench was wide enough for half of him to sit down, maybe — he looked over at the other side of the table, but then Cr'stoff jabbed with an elbow and forced the blond to move further.

"Stop hovering, you're making me feel short," he ordered.

"Right. Thanks." Lance set his tray down and climbed over the bench. He found himself sitting opposite J'sha, who was busy with his bowl of stew but looked up long enough to wave.

"You are short, Cr'stoff," the cheerful-looking, dark-haired trainee next to J'sha said. "It's not just in your head."

The blond one brayed a laugh. "Except it is, since you're the one who keeps mentioning it."

"Fine, it makes me feel _shorter_ ," Cr'stoff declared. He turned to Lance. "J'mes, I'm sorry I told you you should associate with any of these people. This," he elbowed the blond again, harder, "is J'stin. Over there," he pointed with his fork, "Is J'sep. Both of you, behave for company."

"You mean the way you're doing?" J'sep grumbled, but he sounded cheerful enough. He held out a hand across the table. "Nice to meet you. My dragon's brown Chenth."

"Oh," Lance fumbled. "Uh, Amarth, green." J'sep just nodded as he clasped Lance's arm, but Lance thought he heard J'stin murmur, "Oh really?" There was a dull thud and a choked noise from J'stin, but when he reached around Cr'stoff to offer his own hand, his face was smooth and pleasant.

"Mine's Porath, bronze," he said. "He's the biggest of the bronzes this clutch."

"In case you were wondering, which I bet you weren't," J'sep cracked from across the table.

Lance clasped arms with J'stin and then turned his attention to the stew — it had been a long time since that meat roll he'd snatched. The conversation went on above his head, Cr'stoff and J'stin and J'sep swapping gossip and teasing each other. J'sha joined in when he'd emptied his bowl, reaching over to steal Cr'stoff's sweetcake from the edge of his tray, but Lance kept his head down and just listened. The names alone were dizzying — he was still trying to keep riders straight, and when he sometimes had only a vague idea whether it was a rider or a dragon being discussed, he was lost entirely. He'd finished his meal and was trying to figure out a way to leave discreetly when J'sha nudged his ankle.

"J'mes, are you coming?" He explained further at Lance's puzzled look. "Being a bronze rider doesn't make him better than the rest of us," he slanted a smile at J'stin, "But Porath _is_ going to be big, so J'stin has the largest quarters of any of us. We're going to try and figure out what W'son was talking about today — are you coming?"

"I think I know what he was saying," J'stin protested, already picking up his tray.

"Then you can explain it to the rest of us, youngling," Cr'stoff said peaceably, and bumped him with a shoulder.

"I — all right," Lance said, surprising himself. "I left my notes in the training room, though."

J'sha nodded and led the way towards the hatch to drop off their trays. "That's fine; Cr'stoff forgot his too. And Talath says he's hungry, so the rest of them probably want a snack."

All the dragonets wanted something to eat, and by the time they'd all fed and their riders had wiped the worst of the mess off snouts and claws, it had gotten dark, and only baskets of glows lit Lance and Cr'stoff's way from the training room to J'stin's quarters.

Lance raised his eyebrows as he stepped into the outer weyr. It was hard not to feel shortchanged on Amarth's behalf — the space was several times bigger than what she had been allotted. Of course, bronzes were bigger than greens, but — by that much?

Then again, J'stin's Porath, curled up in one corner of the bowl-shaped depression, was already twice Amarth's size. Lance nodded awkwardly as he sidled past, and tried to suppress his thoughts of unfairness.

J'stin's living quarters, at least, weren't much bigger than Lance's own — a wide, low chamber, with a pallet screened off in one corner and a work table and a couple of chairs out in view. A corridor to one side led, Lance assumed, to one of the communal bathing rooms — if J'stin had his own, Lance was going to have to paint Amarth gold or something.

The other three were already there, stretched out on the floor (J'sha) or sitting on the chairs. J'stin had his notes from class out, and was bent over them explaining something out loud. He didn't have much of an audience; J'sep looked up when Lance came in, and waved, then went back to poking at J'sha with one toe. J'sha was humming and making marks in a small sandtray he had laid out in front of him, pausing at intervals to swat J'sep's leg away.

"Well, aren't you all the picture of productivity," Cr'stoff declared, coming up behind Lance and nudging him to one side. "I'm honoured to be in your scholarly presence."

"We didn't want to get too far ahead," J'sha said, blinking innocently. J'stin seemed to only then notice that no one was paying attention to him, and scowled.

"I don't know why I bother," he said. "Come in, you two, and—" he looked around and realised there were no more chairs. "Hang on." He disappeared around the screen hiding the bed and returned with three large cushions, setting two on the floor and tossing the third at J'sha, who caught it and tucked it under his elbows. "Have a seat."

Lance looked at Cr'stoff, who shrugged and waved him in, so he chose one of the cushions and moved it over against a wall before sitting on it. Even though the floor was stone, like all the weyrs, the cushion made it surprisingly comfortable.

"So explain to us, J'stin," Cr'stoff said, flopping down on his own cushion next to J'sep's chair. "What was W'son trying to tell us this afternoon? Because all I got was herdbeast noises." He made a series of nasal lowing sounds that nonetheless mimicked the instructor's speech patterns. Lance snorted out a laugh, and Cr'stoff grinned at him. "See? J'mes agrees."

J'stin rolled his eyes at them. "J'sep, you'd better pay attention this time," he said. "All right, what he was talking about…"

Lance frowned down at his own notes as J'stin went on. It was easier to listen when he wasn't also trying to copy diagrams, and hearing it again — he thought he was getting an idea of what W'son had been trying to convey.

"It's almost like a machine," he said to himself.

"What?" J'stin's explanation stumbled to a halt. "It's dragons! There aren't any machines in this."

"No, it's —" Lance fumbled for his own explanation. "It's made up of dragons, but it works like a machine. When one part moves back, another one comes forward. One goes up, another goes down. There's — it's a balance, so it all keeps working."

J'stin tipped his head to one side. "I guess," he said. "Yeah, you have to keep everything in balance so that there aren't any gaps in the formation, and you're not vulnerable. I dunno about machines, though."

Lance nodded and looked back at his own sketches. Now that he'd made the connection, it was easy enough to fit what J'stin was saying into his new understanding, and when the others made observations, he could understand those as well.

"All right," J'sep said after an hour or more of work, "I need a break. My brain is full." He dropped his notes on the floor and slid off his chair, nudging J'sha until he surrendered a corner of his cushion to J'sep's head.

"I want klah," Cr'stoff declared. "Do you have any up here?"

"If I did, it'd be cold by now, and that's nasty," J'stin told him. "If you want klah, you'll have to get it from the kitchens."

"What kind of host are you, anyway?" Cr'stoff grumbled, getting up. "Come on, then, you can at least help me carry the cups."

J'stin followed him out, after some protests, and J'sep stretched his feet up onto J'stin's chair. Lance fiddled with his notes; he got the feeling there was some communication he wasn't privy to, and he wasn't sure how to break the silence — or even if he should try. But it was only a minute or so later that J'sep asked, on the tail-end of a yawn, "So how come you know all that about machines, J'mes? I thought you were from a Hold?"

"Just because Holds send tithe doesn't mean we're all fodder-chewing milchbeasts," Lance snapped, and almost bit his tongue. He was trying to muster an apology — though he _wasn't_ sorry — when J'sep surprised him by laughing.

"All right, I deserved that." He chuckled again, and sat up, leaving J'sha to claim sole ownership of the cushion. "What I mean is, you came here from Benden Hold, right, not a Hall, and where do machines come into it?"

"I'm not from Benden, I came from Fork Hold. I just happened to come with Benden's tithe train right before the Hatching." Lance fiddled with his stylus. "And, well, I was hoping to go to the Smithcrafthall this year."

"Wait, I remember you," J'sep said suddenly. "You were the one in normal clothes."

Lance raised his chin, unexpectedly nettled by the observation. "Like I said, I wasn't meant to be there." An older dragonrider had had to push him to join the group of weyrlings, Lance had been so certain he was in the wrong place.

"No, no, I didn't mean that," J'sep said, waving a hand. "Just that I do remember seeing you before. However you got here, I'm glad you are." He smiled at Lance, easy and open, and Lance surprised himself by smiling back.

"I am too."

"All right, who else wants klah?" Cr'stoff asked, clomping in carrying a mug in each hand. "We brought the good stuff, don't be shy."

"We?" J'stin asked from behind him. "As far as I can tell, _I_ brought it. What were you doing?" He followed Cr'stoff in, carrying a steaming jug in one hand and three more mugs dangling from the fingers of the other.

"I provided wit and charm," Cr'stoff declared. "Besides, if I hadn't helped, you'd have had to carry two more mugs in your teeth. Now, who wants klah?"

"After I carried this all the way up, _everyone_ had best want some," J'stin threatened.

When all of them had steaming mugs, Lance ventured a question.

"So you all grew up together here in the Weyr? You all — planned to be dragonriders?"

Cr'stoff snorted into his klah. "I don't think some of them believed it until I walked off the Hatching Ground with Mesarth. Shells, some of them _still_ don't believe it."

"We love you too," J'sha told him. He turned to Lance. "I planned on going to the Harper Hall before I was Impressed."

"You can't do both, can you?" Lance asked. He'd gotten the impression that it was out of the question to be a dragonrider _and_ follow one of the crafthalls, but there was a lot he didn't know about dragonriders.

J'sha made a face. "I don't have to give up music — I can still be a Weyrsinger — but I can't be a Harper if I'm already a dragonrider."

Lance nodded. "That's better than nothing, though, right?"

J'sha smiled. "I'm happy enough with it. I still get to make music, _and_ I get Talath."

J'stin sniffed. "My family have always been bronze riders, so I knew that was what I was going to do."

Lance thought he might remember J'stin from his hazy, scrambled recollection of the parts of the Hatching that didn't involve Amarth — one boy had walked onto the hot sand and gone straight up to the second of the bronze dragonets to hatch, presenting himself like he didn't even think he could be rejected. It must be nice to have that sort of confidence, he thought.

J'sep shrugged and nodded. "My mother started training me in Healing but face it," he held out his big hands in front of him, "Me and delicate work were never going to mix well."

"Also he gets queasy at the sight of blood," Cr'stoff chimed in. "So, you see, we already know each other way too well, and we need someone new." He grinned at Lance. "What's your story, J'mes? How'd you end up in such benighted company?"

Lance looked at J'sep and J'sha. "Like I said, I just happened to be here when the eggs Hatched."

J'stin whistled under his breath. "Lucky."

"I wasn't so sure at the time. Though I wouldn't change Amarth for anything now," Lance added hastily.

"What was it like?" J'sha asked. He gestured at the other trainees. "We all grew up with stories, knowing more or less what to expect. Did you — had you been told anything about Hatchings?"

Lance laughed shortly and shook his head. "I didn't have a clue."

>   
>  Lance had nearly stumbled on the threshold — not that there was anything to stumble on, but simply from not knowing where to look first. The huge chamber was filled with people, and he'd hesitated, not sure where the dragonrider had meant for him to go, until someone behind him gave him a shove that nearly sent him toppling.
> 
> "Over here!" 
> 
> Lance had been pulled along through the crowd to an open area of sand. The heat rising off it made him blink — it was as hot as a forge with all the bellows going, and as deafening, as the noise of the crowd reflected off the rockfaces high above.
> 
> His guide had abandoned him. Lance squinted around the area of sand and spotted a loose group of people, mostly boys around his age but a few girls, near the far side. Perhaps he was meant to join them. He'd started in that direction when movement caught his eye and he froze.
> 
> What he had taken for a rock formation in the distance had just turned its head, and now that he was looking, he could see that the folds of rock were enormous folded wings, and the fall of rubble at the base was the queen dragon's talons. Her eyes glinted high up in the gloom, out of reach of the glowbaskets that lit the lower parts of the chamber, and Lance couldn't shake the feeling that she was looking straight at him.
> 
> He glanced nervously over at the group of Weyr younglings. They were all dressed in loose white clothes, standing calmly apart from shifting their sandalled feet on the hot sand. Lance looked back down at himself. He was wearing his normal clothes, the rough cloth and heavy leather that he'd worked in at the Hold. It couldn't have been more obvious that he didn't belong with them, whatever the rider outside had said. He hung undecided, ready to take a step backwards and get out of the way, but not sure where he could go instead.
> 
> One of the younglings spotted him and gestured, beckoning him towards them more vigorously when Lance didn't respond immediately. Lance still hesitated, and the Weyrling waved again. Finally Lance forced his feet into motion and picked his way across the sand to join the group. He almost imagined he heard his mother say, _There's no shame in trying._
> 
> "What were you waiting for?" the one who had waved to him hissed. "They're almost ready to hatch, you can't waste time!"
> 
> "Sorry," Lance muttered, and looked into the middle of the sandy bowl. A dozen or more eggs, as big as he was, lay clustered on the sand, and a few of them — were they moving? Lance squinted — the eggs were definitely rocking back and forth slightly. He glanced to either side of him; none of the Weyrlings or the spectators seemed worried, so he supposed they must be meant to do that.
> 
> _"They'll burst out of their shells and go for anyone near 'em!"_ He couldn't help remembering old Gritha's stories by the low-burning fire in the Hold Hall, late at nights when he was a youngling. _"Bloodthirsty they are."_ She'd shaken her head. _"You have to be brave to try to Impress a dragon. Brave or foolish."_
> 
> Gritha had never been near a dragon in her life. She didn't know anything. Lance swallowed.
> 
> The crack of a shell breaking, and the answering gasp from the crowd, made his heart jump. The Weyr younglings spread out of their group in a broad fan, leaving Lance standing apart from any of them as he watched a snubbed, brown snout shove its way out of an egg. The dragonet fought to its feet, then looked around, its head wobbling slightly on its skinny neck. It took a step forward and nearly tripped over itself, but then seemed to gain balance and confidence, crossing quickly to a tall young man to Lance's left. Lance winced, half-sure he was going to see one of Gritha's disembowellings, but the dragonet halted in front of its target, tipping its head to one side. The chosen Weyrling blinked back; then an expression of delighted disbelief spread over his face, and he reached out one hand to rest on the side of the dragonet's neck.
> 
> Another crack drew Lance's attention back to the hot sands before he could see what happened next. Two dragonets were hatching this time, a blue and one of the two bronze eggs. Before they had located their weyrmates another egg cracked, and suddenly the whole hatching ground seemed to be full of dragonets, looking back and forth among the hopeful candidates for — whoever fit the criteria for a perfect dragonrider, Lance supposed.
> 
> None of them looked to be heading his way, and the Weyr candidates had moved away from Lance as they tried to attract the dragonets' attention. Perhaps he could leave quietly now, and go back to worrying whether there'd be space for him the next day on the wagon train to the Smithcrafthall.
> 
> He took a step backwards and bumped into someone. He turned, an apology on his lips, and froze when he saw the bright green dragonet looking up — not very _far_ up — at him with swirling eyes.
> 
> Gritha had told tales about love too, about how it changed everything in the world between one breath and the next. Lance rather thought this might have been what she was talking about.
> 
> _I am Amarth,_ the dragonet said. _Hello._
> 
> "Amarth," Lance breathed out. He reached out one hand and stroked careful fingertips down the delicate hide of her neck. "I'm Lance. You're perfect."
> 
> _And you are just right for me._  
> 

"It was—" Lance's voice sounded rusty. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It was overwhelming. I didn't know what to expect, but I don't think I could have expected it before it happened, you know?"

"Yeah," J'sha said quietly. "I know what you mean."

The others nodded, each looking wrapped in his own memories.

"Well!" Cr'stoff said after a few seconds of silence. "Now we've all bonded over that, I've been meaning to ask your opinions. I'm thinking of changing my name so I fit in with the rest of you. What do you think, J'stoff? J'rff?"

"J'idiot?" J'sep murmured.

Cr'stoff kicked at him. "I heard that."

J'sep snickered, unrepentant. "You were meant to."

"Actually," Lance heard himself say, "My family never called me J'mes."

He found himself the focus of four puzzled looks. Cr'stoff recovered first.

"What, they just called you 'Hey, you' all the time?"

"No, but —" Lance found himself fumbling for words. "My father's named Jemes, and I was named after him. So I was always called by a different name, so we didn't get confused. After the Impression, someone asked for my name, and I said both of them. So, J'mes." He spread his hands.

"Wait," J'stin said slowly. "You have exactly the same name as your father? Is that some — Hold thing?"

"J'stin," J'sha said reprovingly.

"I'm curious!" J'stin protested.

"It's just my father's family," Lance said. "I know it's a little strange, but they've always done it." He half-shrugged.

"Huh," J'stin said. "So is it all right that we call you J'mes?"

Lance opened his mouth, but paused to think about it for a moment. He thought of _himself_ as Lance, and Amarth called him that, but — he wasn't sure if he wanted the rest of the world to call him by a name he always associated with Hold, and close family, and stories his sister had whispered to him after Gritha had told them they were meant to be asleep. "It's fine," he said. "I'm getting used to it." Which was true enough.

"On second thought, I'm not sharing being the only non-J in this group," Cr'stoff declared. "The rest of you will just have to find other ways to stand out."

"I don't think anyone's going to somehow overlook you, Cr'stoff," J'stin said. He drained his mug and set it down on the floor by his chair. "Now, is anyone else interested in doing this work?"

*

*

Training was easier, somehow, now that Lance could look over when W'son drew an incomprehensible diagram and share an eyeroll with Cr'stoff, or a baffled grin with J'sep. J'sha sat in a corner of the training room where Lance couldn't see him easily, and had appeared to be asleep every time Lance looked that way; J'stin, on the other hand, sat bolt upright at the front of the room, nearly quivering with attentiveness. He quivered even harder when W'son gave the trainees speeches on how dragonriders were the backbone of Pernese civilisation, and the heirs of tradition and all that was right, and how as the only occupied Weyr, Benden had an obligation to uphold that tradition in its most shining form. Lance slouched a little in his seat during those, and tried not to catch W'son's attention — he had no desire to be used as an example of how even poor unfortunate Holders could be reformed and become proper members of society — even if they were only green riders.

 _If everyone was a dragonrider, who'd raise those beasts that **feed** your dragons?_ he wondered to himself. Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Cr'stoff caught his eye and raised his eyebrows, directing an unimpressed look at W'son. J'sep didn't look convinced, either — growing up in the Weyr, they must have seen plenty of dragonriders being something other than paragons and examples to all.

Lance sometimes wondered if W'son was quite rational about being a dragonrider. He tried to picture the instructor as a farmer, or a travelling entertainer, and had to stifle giggles. It was almost a pity there wasn't any Thread — W'son would have loved that, Lance thought.

For all that the lectures — and rants — dragged on, it was only a few sevendays before W'son chivvied them all out of the classroom and up on to the Weyr heights. 

"You can't learn flying sitting on the ground!" he yelled. "Each of your dragons has been issued harness, you are going to harness them, and we'll be starting short training flights this afternoon."

Lance looked over at where Amarth was sitting demurely next to a pile of straps and buckles. Most of the other trainees were already straightening pieces out, arranging them, a few having even gone so far as to have pieces draped over their dragons already. Lance looked at the confusion at his feet and picked up a strap, just to look like he was doing something.

"Do you know how this goes on?" he asked Amarth as quietly as he could.

 _No, but I think you should ask **him** ,_ she said, indicating Mesarth and Cr'stoff next to her. 

"I'd rather not advertise that I don't know what I'm doing." Lance watched Cr'stoff's deft handling of the harness as best he could without being obvious, trying to figure out which piece he'd start with, and how that corresponded to the pile he had. Cr'stoff was well ahead of him, though, and Lance couldn't tell what order the buckles fastened in, or if it even mattered.

He had drawn breath to ask Cr'stoff for help when Mesarth shook himself all over, his hide quivering like a herdbeast's covered in flies, and all the laid-out pieces of harness shivered right off his neck and back into a pile at his own feet.

"What was that for?" Cr'stoff demanded. "I'd almost finished that, you overgrown watch-wher!"

Mesarth curled his head around and looked at Cr'stoff with whirling eyes. Cr'stoff glared back, with his hands on his hips. After a couple of heartbeats, he gave in and petted Mesarth's nose.

"You're a waste of time and I don't know why I bother," he told the dragon tenderly, and bent to the pile of gear again. "Let me stand on the other side, so you at least don't dump the gear on me next time."

Lance didn't think Cr'stoff was going about harnessing quite the same way he had the first time, but Lance had a good clear view, so he wasn't going to question it.

"Does that feel all right?" he asked Amarth, when the last strap was tightened (and double-checked against the gear Mesarth was wearing).

She shook her head from side to side and mantled her wings a little. _Nothing is too tight,_ she reported, _and it doesn't feel loose, either._

It was just in time, too. "All right!" W'son bellowed. "Once your dragon is harnessed, move to the edge of the drop. Greens first!" he added, just as Lance had begun to hope he'd have a reprieve.

Of course, the smaller dragons always cleared the way first, being more maneuverable, and the biggest ones needed the space for take off. Still, Lance had been hoping he'd get to see what happened first.

 _I'm not going to let you fall,_ Amarth told him, one eye cocked reproachfully.

"I don't think you are," he whispered back. "It's just a long way down."

W'son came along the line of greens, checking the harness on each one. When he reached Amarth, he tugged on a couple of straps, grunted approvingly, and then returned to where his brown dragon, Jeruth, was perched neatly on the very edge of the plateau.

"Green riders, mount your dragons, and wait for my mark!"

Fortunately, the arrangement of straps made it obvious where Lance was supposed to grab on, and Amarth helpfully crooked an elbow for him to step up. From his seat between her neck ridges, the ground looked like it was very far away, and the bottom of the Weyr bowl was even further.

"Take flight in order!" W'son yelled again. "Deneth!"

The dragon next to Amarth pushed off from the cliff, spreading her wings as soon as she had room and gliding downwards for a length or two before flapping strongly to rise above the plateau.

"Are you ready for this?" Lance asked Amarth.

She twisted her head around so she could fix him with one glowing eye. _Lan, dragons were **made** to fly._

Lance only had time to draw a breath before W'son yelled, "Amarth!"

He could feel her muscles bunching under him as she crouched, then sprang forward. Her wings snapped out to their full extension and swept through the air, moving them away from the plateau at what felt like a terrific speed. He'd watched Amarth grow from a dragonet smaller than himself, to the dragon she was now, twice his height at the peak of her folded wings, but Lance had never been more aware of her size and strength.

"You're wonderful," he told her through his clenched teeth.

He felt her pleasure at the compliment. _Jeruth says we are to do a circuit around the Weyr and then return to land,_ she reported.

"I think you're the expert, here," Lance said, thankful he didn't have to make himself audible above the rush of wind. He felt her amusement as she pushed for more height, then banked into a turn. Below them, Lance could see the last of the greens taking off, and W'son calling the blues forward to the edge, and then he lost sight of the trainees as Amarth's flight carried her past the plateau and away from the Weyr.

Now that he was beginning to believe that he wasn't going to fall — despite the open air all around him — Lance could enjoy the flight, taking in everything he could see from this height. The Weyr looked very different from above than from the ground-level he was used to, and he could see a pattern in the shape of it that he'd missed before, in the necessarily indirect routes from place to place. Rather than being set arbitrarily, the open bowls were strung out like a child's beads along the top of high ground, following the ridge. From Amarth's back, it was clear that the route Lance had taken with the tithe train, burrowing through the wall of the main Weyr bowl, was the only way to approach by foot without being seen leagues away. The only practical way to reach the Weyr was by dragon — no wonder dragonriders were such an insular group.

 _I like the heights,_ Amarth remarked, sweeping around in a turn to bring her back to the prominence they had started from. _It's safe, and no one can creep up on you. Even Thread._

Of course, that was the other reason for dragons to live on the heights. Lance leaned forward to pat Amarth's neck. "I didn't mean it as criticism," he said. "Just an observation."

Her snort expressed eloquently what she thought of his observation, but she confined herself to that as they came in for landing.

Lance had expected a thump, as he'd witnessed Amarth landing her prey, and was surprised by how gently they settled back to earth. Nonetheless, when he released his straps from her harness and slid to the ground, his knees shook and threatened to buckle under him.

"Thank you," he told Amarth. "That was—" Incredible? Breathtaking? Nothing he'd ever done before? "A good flight," he finished.

He could feel her satisfaction as she settled herself more comfortably. _Of course it was,_ she agreed. _I told you, dragons were made to fly._

"All right, dismissed," W'son told them all. He paused by Lance and Amarth, and nodded once. "We'll make a dragonrider of you yet, J'mes."

"Thank you," Lance muttered, and W'son went on.

"So how was that?" J'sep asked, popping up out of nowhere and clapping Lance on the shoulder. "Great, right?"

He was bubbling over with enthusiasm, clearly joyful at the exercise, and maybe that was what let Lance say, "I think I can get used to it."

"I know, it's so different when it's your own dragon! Right, Chenth?" he called across the plateau, and Chenth rumbled back agreement. "Flying passenger's fine if you have to, but we'll never have to settle for that again!"

"I'd never flown before," Lance admitted.

"What?" J'sep's astonished face was comical. "How'd you get to the Weyr, then?"

"On my feet," Lance told him drily. "They're very useful."

"Right, of course." J'sep still looked taken aback. Then he brightened. "Well, you know, the good thing about having passed today is we don't have to climb back down from here. See you at the feeding grounds!" He clapped Lance on the shoulder again and hurried off, back to Chenth.

 _Quick, climb on,_ Amarth told him. _I won't let that overgrown lizard beat me there!_

Lance scrambled back up, and J'sep's whoop followed them into the air.

*

W'son's assessment that they were ready to start training in the air as well as in the classroom meant less time spent sitting and squinting at diagrams, but it didn't mean getting out of lectures entirely. It was hard to pay attention to W'son's diagrams at the best of times, but today was particularly bad, Lance thought. He had felt all morning like his boots didn't fit right or there was sand in his shirt or something, and even Amarth had grumbled waking up, and hissed at another green who got too close to her on the feeding ground.

From the shuffling and fidgeting going on around him, he wasn't the only one having trouble concentrating. Finally W'son dropped his chalk in disgust. "All right, all of you, outside. If you can't pay attention, you can run it off."

He chivvied them out into the bowl of the Weyr, and set them running laps around it. They probably inconvenienced anyone who was trying to get anything done — Lance had to dodge a cook carrying a large, steaming pot from the Lower Caverns — but he did feel better as they ran, as if a tension he hadn't identified was finding an outlet. W'son was pushing them into a third lap when a dragon bugled on the heights, clear and brassy, and all around the Weyr, heads snapped up.

"Keep going!" W'son yelled at them. "Keep together, and don't get in the way!"

Dragons and riders started pouring out of the weyr entrances, flying or running towards the feeding grounds. "Is it an emergency?" Lance asked J'sep beside him, in between gulps of air.

J'sep shook his head. "Flight," he wheezed out. "A green's getting ready to — " he flapped a hand. "Shells, this is torture."

"If you can talk, you can run faster!" W'son bellowed from behind them. "Keep it up!"

"Can't we go watch?" someone asked from the back of the group. Lance thought he recognised the voice as one of the brown riders, but he wasn't sure of the name.

"It's not a spectator sport. Come on, around again!" W'son called, and they all kept running like — well, like W'son was chasing them.

After several more laps, W'son finally let them stop outside the training room, and most of the trainees dropped to the ground where they stood. Lance flopped on his back and stared up at the sky, hoping his laboured breaths weren't as loud as they sounded in his own ears. W'son's strategy had worked, though — he was far too exhausted to feel twitchy any more, or anything else.

"From now on, we'll be running twice a sevenday," W'son called out. Lance found he did have enough breath to groan with the rest of the group. He craned his head up to see the instructor — he wasn't even breathing very hard, the wherson. "Your dragons are going to carry _dragonriders_ , not sacks of tubers. When you pathetic lumps can get up, you're dismissed for the day. I don't want to hear about any trouble."

"Why would we cause trouble anyway?" J'sep muttered from his place in the dust next to Lance. "The flight's already over. Chenth says Soreth only flew just far enough for Ith to catch her, the lazy thing."

"Why does it matter, since she's a green?" Lance asked. "She won't be laying, so it doesn't affect the clutch size, right?"

He could see J'sep's sideways shrug out of the corner of his eye. "It doesn't, really. I just think she could have made more of a show of effort."

"A show," Lance repeated. He felt a little cold. "Right." He pushed himself up from the ground and brushed the dust off his clothes. "I'm going to go see if Amarth needs anything." 

He thought he heard J'sep say, "J'mes?" as he walked away, but he wasn't in the mood to stop. 

Amarth did want something to eat, as it turned out, so Lance picked up a meat-roll from the kitchens as he went past, and ate while not watching her tear a wherry to bits. If he spent the rest of the time until dark scrubbing her in the lake, and going on a short flight around the Weyr, and not talking to anyone else, well, Amarth needed reassurance after the upset of the day, was all. A dragonrider needed to look after his dragon, right? Even if the dragon was green.

*

After that, it was hardly a surprise a few days later, when a trainee Healer pulled Lance and his fellow green riders out of the stream of trainees leaving the training room the end of the afternoon session, and told them to follow him to the Lower Caverns, where one of the senior Healers wanted to talk to them in particular.

Only half an hour in, Lance's ears were burning, and he was sure that if he never heard _anyone_ say "natural urges" again, it would be too soon.

"The most important thing is to stay with your dragon," the Healer said again. She was a nice-looking woman of maybe fifty, and under other circumstances, Lance would probably have been thinking of her as someone's grandmother or something. Now, though, he was desperately afraid he knew who she was, and he was never going to be able to meet her eyes again. "But you have to look after your own needs and safety as well."

The trainee whose name was either J'ree or J'ren — Lance had been trying to remember, but not too hard, since once he sorted it out, he'd have nothing to distract him from the horrifying lecture — raised a hand hesitantly, and stammered when the Healer nodded at him to continue. 

"I thought it was — overwhelming, and really hard to think."

The Healer smiled at him — almost like she wasn't discussing the finer points of getting fucked, Lance thought wildly. "Your dragon will be acting on instinct, but you won't be, completely. And you can plan ahead. I'd suggest arranging with a friend, ahead of time, that they will help look out for you. Pick someone you trust — if you're attracted to them, and your dragon to theirs, all the better," she added with a smile. Lance was going to sink through the floor. "Other riders whose dragons are in the flight will also be having to compensate for that instinctive drive, but having someone you trust nearby can help you feel more confident and grounded." She looked around at them all. "The most important thing to remember is that these are natural urges, and nothing to be ashamed of."

There was that phrase again. Lance ducked his head and waited for it to be over. He hoped he remembered the important bits later, because at the moment he was far too busy pretending he wasn't in the room at all. As best he could tell, Amarth was sleeping through the whole thing, and he tried not to envy her so much he woke her up. One of them should be spared, at least.

He assured the Healer he had no questions, and yes, if he thought of any, he'd come find her, yes, and fled to the eating hall, where it was warm enough to excuse his flushed face.

"You look like you've been running," J'stin observed when Lance sat down with his tray. "Is everything all right?"

Lance shook his head and concentrated on the food. "It's fine."

"Really?" J'sep pressed. "Where've you been since W'son let us go?"

Lance dropped his spoon into his bowl and groaned. "We had a lady Healer telling us about natural urges, all right? I don't want to talk about it."

"Was she good-looking?" J'sep asked.

Lance glared at him with one eye. "I think she was probably your mother."

"Agh, okay, don't talk about it." J'sep covered his face. "Ever again."

"Is J'sep all right?" J'sha asked, sitting on Lance's other side. "I don't think we can order another from Stores if we broke him."

Cr'stoff leaned around Lance. "J'mes and the rest of the green riders were getting a _special talk_ ," he waggled his eyebrows for punctuation. "From J'sep's mother."

J'stin poked at his food. "I don't see why green riders get special treatment and not bronze," he muttered. "I mean, we're important. I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna grow up and be the youngest Weyrleader ever, we know," Cr'stoff interrupted. "It's a little bit different."

"I don't see why," J'stin protested. "It's not like you need training to be—"

"Can we talk about _anything else_?" Lance said loudly. There was a pause as all the conversations around them halted and people looked over. "Please?" Lance said more quietly.

The background hum of conversation picked up again. "Sure," Cr'stoff said. "Did anyone else see that brown rider with his shirt all torn? What d'you think happened to him?"

*

Lance was still twitchy and unable to tear his thoughts away from the "special lecture" when they all climbed the stairs to J'stin's quarters to work on the tactical explanations W'son wanted for the next day. Lance had intended to start working on them before the evening meal, but —well, that hadn't happened. Now he was distracted and cranky, _and_ he still had to finish the stupid exercises, which in this case he would happily have left to J'stin and the rest of the bronze riders. A green dragon was never going to lead a wing, and he didn't know why anyone pretended otherwise.

He was determinedly focusing on the diagrams — W'son hadn't become any more comprehensible, even if they were applying the diagrams to actual in-flight movement now — when J'sha came and sat down next to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, tracing fingers over his own diagram.

"I'm fine," Lance said, automatically.

J'sha doodled an aimless shape in the corner of his sand-tray. "All right. I just thought, if there was anything you wanted to talk about—"

Lance snorted and interrupted him. "I just got told I don't get to choose who I sleep with, or even if I _want_ to sleep with anyone. What could the problem be?"

"It's different, when it's a Flight," J'sha said. "You feel what your dragon's feeling."

Lance gave up on his notes and looked at J'sha. "That's exactly what I mean about not getting to choose," he said. "Amarth's great, and I trust her, but I don't understand how her picking a mate for a Flight means I have to be thrilled about being fucked by the dragon's rider."

J'sha shrugged, like he didn't see anything wrong with that. "Well, you'll probably be compatible," he said. "It's a Flight, you might as well have fun — and Amarth's green, so it doesn't have to be anything more than that. You won't be stuck with them like a gold rider would."

"What if I don't want it to be anything at all?" Lance's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he shot a quick look over to where J'sep and J'stin had their heads bent together. Neither they nor Cr'stoff seemed to be listening in, but he lowered his voice anyway. "I know it's how things are done in the Weyrs, but just because it's done in the Weyr doesn't mean it's right. I'm not — like that."

J'sha looked at him carefully. "Like what, J'mes?"

"You know what I mean! _With men!_ " Lance hissed out.

"Really? Just, green riders usually—" J'sha started.

"I don't care about green riders usually!" Lance yelled at him. "I don't care what you think passes for normal, or what's acceptable behaviour, but I know what's decent!"

He looked around. The other three were staring at him with varying degrees of surprise, and J'sha —

"Decent?" J'sha asked. "You think we're not?"

Lance swallowed. "I know you're taught one thing, but I was taught another, and — I can't think that's all right."

J'sha narrowed his eyes. "Which part do you really have a problem with, J'mes?" he asked. "The part where you don't think you have a choice, or the part that involves sleeping with _a man_?"

Lance stared back at him. His thoughts were whirling around too fast for him to pick any one thread out, and he finally shook his head. "I don't know." He stood and collected his materials. "I should go."

"Good idea," Cr'stoff said from behind him. No one else seemed to be breathing, it was so still in the room. Cr'stoff didn't even look angry, he just looked — flat. Lance didn't dare look at anyone else; he just gulped again and hurried out, past Porath — curled up but awake and watching with one luminous eye — down the precipitous steps to the bottom, and back up to his own quarters.

 _Lan? Are you all right?_ Amarth asked. She was sitting up, clearly awoken by Lance's upset. _What's wrong?_

Lance shook his head. "It's nothing. Or nothing you can fix," he said, since she could tell the lie of his first answer. "I just sometimes wonder if I'll ever really understand this place."

 _What do you need to understand?_ Amarth sounded puzzled. _You have me, and I have you, and that is all that is important._

Lance choked on a laugh. "You're right." He leaned against her shoulder and reached up to pet at her neck. "You'd never choose a dragon to fly you whose rider I hated, right?"

Amarth snorted. _I do not think I will ever Fly at all. It all seems like a lot of fuss._ She turned around so she could see Lance properly. _Besides, all the blues and browns think far too well of themselves, and so do their riders._

"They do," Lance agreed. He tipped his head against her hide. She was surprisingly comfortable, smooth and resilient, and warm against the cool night air. He could just stay here for a while, and pretend he didn't have to deal with anything outside the small weyr—

Amarth nudged at his shoulder — gently, so he only stumbled back half a step or so. _You cannot sleep standing up like a herdbeast,_ she told him. _Go get some of those cloth bits you sleep with._

When Lance came back with a pillow and blanket, Amarth was curled up again, with a space for him behind her elbow that she mantled her wing to expose. Lance left his jacket and boots on the floor and crawled in gratefully, curling up against her with the blanket to cushion him from the stone floor.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Her mental voice was soft, near-sleep. _I have you, and you have me._ She settled her wing into place, covering him over like a living roof. _That is what is important. Sleep, Lan._

*

Lance kept his head down the next day, avoiding eye contact all through the morning lesson and afternoon training flight. At midday, he had just collected a meat-roll and some fruit from the kitchens, and he was more than half expecting to do the same thing at the evening meal — the alternative being to find a new place to sit, as he didn't think he'd be welcome sitting with J'sha and the others. That was a problem for the future, though; right now he was sitting on the lake shore with his trouser legs rolled up, half-watching Amarth blow bubbles in the shallows. She was already clean after eating, he'd seen to that, so now she was just playing.

He picked up a smooth stone from where his hand was resting, and tried to skim it out across the water. It barely wobbled in flight, but sank immediately in the waves Amarth churned up as she came back to shore.

 _I feel better now,_ she announced. She settled next to him on the stones. _What are you doing?_

Lance selected another flat stone and tried to skip that one. It glanced off the water once, but then sank as well. "You can make stones fly, and not sink. My brother taught me." He tossed another one, which actually skipped twice. "I'm out of practice."

Amarth watched him skip another stone, then stood up out of her crouch and picked up a rock in her foreclaw. She threw it underhand towards the water, and it ploughed up a plume of spray. _I do not think I can do that._

Lance's next stone sank without a trace. "Don't worry; I'm not doing too well either."

She tucked her feet back under her and pulled her wings in. _Why are you throwing stones?_

Lance shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose I was thinking about ho — the Hold."

Her eyes whirled. _You miss it._

Lance shrugged again. "I knew how things worked there. I still — I don't fit in here."

Amarth was silent next to him for several minutes, though Lance could almost hear her thinking things over. Then she said, quietly, _It would be easier for you if I were not green. I'm sorry._

"No!" Lance flung out a hand against her forelimb. "I wouldn't have you any other way, you're perfect."

 _And you are not?_ Her eyes glowed in the low sunlight as she turned to look at him.

"That's different, that's — " But he never got a chance to tell her what it was; a gusting downdraft heralded Mesarth's arrival a little ways down the shore.

Mesarth splashed into the water immediately, warbling happily. Cr'stoff stood on the shore, watching him, with his arms folded. He must have seen them — a bright green dragon was hardly inconspicuous — but he gave no sign of it, not acknowledging Lance and Amarth by so much as a glance.

Lance propped his chin on his folded arms and watched Cr'stoff watching Mesarth. His indignation from the night before had long since burned out, and he couldn't help thinking of a saying Gritha had been fond of: 'No one has so many friends that they can afford to throw them away.'

Did he really want to separate himself from the only close friends he had found at the Weyr? And he had no illusions that word wouldn't spread about what he'd said. He wasn't going to be ppular.

Lance swallowed around the hard knot in his throat and shook his head. One day of isolation, now he'd gotten used to having people to talk to again, had been too much. Months of it? Turns? And it wasn't like he could go anywhere else.

 _Lan?_ Amarth asked, worried.

Lance reached out automatically to stroke her side soothingly.

"Do you know which weyr is J'sha's and Talath's?" he asked her. "I think I owe him an apology."

 _Of course,_ she said. _And I can fly you there — I know you don't have your harness, but I will not let you fall._

"I know you won't." Lance stood and brushed grit off his seat. "Is he there now?"

 _Talath says he is._ She crouched for Lance to climb up.

Lance settled himself in place and patted her neck. "I guess we'd better go, then."

*

*

There was plenty of room for Amarth to land on the ledge outside Talath's weyr. Lance slid off her back and nodded to Talath, who was curled near the inner doorway, with his feet in a patch of sunlight.

"I'm just here to talk to J'sha," he said. It felt a little strange to explain his business to a dragon, but on the other hand — Talath was quite able to stop Lance from going any further.

Talath gave him a long look, but finally cocked his head in an unmistakeable gesture towards J'sha's quarters.

"Thank you," Lance said. He walked past Talath, and just as he was level with the dragon's head, felt a gust of hot air on his lower legs. Talath was watching him with sharp eyes, and Lance gulped. If his apology didn't work, he was going to have to figure out another way out of the weyr.

"Is someone there?" J'sha called from inside. Lance nodded to Talath and stepped through the arch.

"Hello?" J'sha had been working at the table against one wall; he was halfway out of his chair when Lance came in. "Oh, J'mes."

He didn't sound delighted to see Lance — well, Lance hadn't expected him to. He took a deep breath and said, "I'd like to apologise."

J'sha sank back down in his chair, turning it to face Lance. "What for?"

Surely he hadn't forgotten in the intervening day. "For — my outburst last night."

"All right." J'sha picked up a stylus from the table and turned it over in his fingers. "Are you apologising for what you said, though, or just for doing it loudly?" He looked up at Lance, and while his face was understanding, there wasn't a trace of his usual gentle good humour.

Lance shook his head — he couldn't tell what the right answer was, here. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No," J'sha agreed. He sighed, and his expression settled into more familiar lines. "But just not saying it isn't going to solve the problem. You _thought_ it, before you said it."

Lance frowned. "Yes?"

J'sha stood up and pushed his chair out of the way, pacing the small area of clear floor. "There's a reason Hold and Weyr are so separate, you know," he said. "There are Records — we all used to be more integrated, but our lives are just too different. This is the sort of thing that broke us apart." He shrugged. "Funny how being called indecent doesn't foster close relations."

Lance winced and ducked his head. "I am sorry for saying that," he said to the floor.

"Good," J'sha said. "You should be." His boots crossed Lance's field of view and he leaned against the wall nearby. "Holders aren't known for liking dragons, either, but I don't see you running screaming from Amarth."

Lance looked up at him. "That's different," he said. "That's — Amarth's different."

"Yes," J'sha said, casting a glance towards Talath and smiling. "But it goes to show that just because you're a Holder doesn't mean you have to be Holdbound."

Lance nodded shortly.

"Stop looking like you're at a wake," J'sha told him. "I accept your apology. But," he said, raising his eyebrows, "That was your chance. If you have more to say on the subject, I don't want to hear it."

"Right." Lance nodded again. "That was all I wanted to say. I should go now."

"Hang on." J'sha grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him sideways into a half-hug, their shoulders knocking together. "We're all right, and you'll be all right," he said, right into Lance's ear. "But for your own sake, J'mes, try to change how you think."

He clapped Lance on the back once more and then walked away, sitting back down at the table and pulling forward the sandtray he'd been working on. Lance fumbled for something to say, but J'sha gave every appearance of having forgotten his existence. Lance waited a few seconds, then turned and ducked back through the archway to the outer weyr. 

Amarth was crouched near the outer ledge, with her head cocked towards Talath, and Lance had the indefinable feeling he had intruded on a conversation. He scrubbed his hands over his face — he was just drawing Bitran odds today.

"Can we go now?" he asked Amarth.

 _Of course._ Her eyes reflected light back from the glowbaskets as she stood and bent her elbow for Lance.

He wasn't sure what made him look back just as they took to the air, but he was just in time to see all of Talath's teeth on display in a yawn that seemed to fill the entire weyr. He shivered.

 _Are you cold?_ Amarth asked solicitously, but he had a distinct sense she was laughing at him.

*

 _This tastes strange,_ Amarth commented, crunching on the chunk of firestone Lance had handed her. _But it is not bad._

Around them, the other trainees and dragons spread across the rocky plateau, all of them carefully facing more or less the same way. The sound of teeth breaking rock filled the air, and made Lance want to cover his ears.

"You have to swallow it differently, remember," he warned Amarth.

 _I remember._ She took on a look of extreme concentration as she finished chewing the rocks, and gulped. _I think that was right._

Lance offered her another head-sized piece of the rock, and she took it daintily. Lance looked around at the other trainees, but no one seemed to be making any particular progress yet.

 _Another one, I think,_ Amarth said when she had swallowed, again with that look of concentration. _That one._ She pointed with her snout.

"I don't think I can lift that one."

Amarth took a step forward to snap the rock off its pile, then retreated back into the rough line of dragons before W'son could yell at them. _This tastes better the more you eat of it,_ she commented.

"I hope that's a good thing," Lance said.

 _Yes. It is not pleasant to start with._ Amarth swallowed again, and looked contemplative. _I think it's working. Lan, you should—_

She interrupted herself with a small hiccup of flame. It was unfocused, and only travelled a little ways before dissipating, but Lance felt the heat of it on his face.

"That's it!" W'son yelled. "Like that! The rest of you, step it up!"

The grinding noise around them got louder. "Another piece?" Lance asked.

 _Maybe._ Amarth picked up a small chunk of firestone and cracked it in her teeth. _Who came up with the idea of eating rocks, anyway?_

"It turned out all right," Lance offered.

He could tell what she thought of that justification, but she didn't say it, concentrating instead on another burst of flame. This one was less of a cloud and more of a jet, and it travelled more than the length of her head before flickering out.

"Better," Lance said. "I liked that one."

He heard a whoop down the line and turned in time to see J'stin throw his arms up as Porath let out a burst of flame. Amarth looked as well, and stretched her neck out to get another piece of firestone. Up and down the line, more of the young dragons were letting lose unfocused clouds of flame, and Lance was starting to feel uncomfortably warm. He took shelter by Amarth's shoulder while she chewed; this time, the flame she let loose was a directed jet, and he could feel the heat even where he stood.

 _Ha!_ she said, and settled back on her haunches to fire another jet without taking any more firestone. _This is fun!_

"All right!" W'son bawled from his vantage point. "You're now going to be practising flaming in flight. Make sure your dragon has control of the flame! We don't want any accidents!"

 _I won't cause accidents,_ Amarth said smugly, letting loose another gout of flame. _I'm good at this. Can I have more firestone?_

"As much as you like," Lance assured her. "I think, anyway. It looks like there's lots of it."

 _Good._ Amarth reached forward and grabbed another chunk. _It's starting to taste almost good._

Lance wasn't sure that was a good sign, but he had no idea. "Just make sure you swallow it the right way."

He could almost hear Amarth's eyeroll.

"This is a pretty time, huh?" Cr'stoff asked. He had ducked around the dragons' backs and come up next to Amarth. He nodded down the row at Mesarth, crunching firestone with relish. "He thinks this is great."

Lance nodded. "What's better than getting to set things on fire?"

"Well, we can look forward to that." Cr'stoff pointed upwards, and Lance looked that way. Above them, a formation of dragons wheeled around, spouting flames in synchrony.

"All right, that's pretty good too," Lance admitted. He frowned. "Though I wonder…"

"What?" Cr'stoff was still watching the dragons above them, making a face. "See, I'd like flying even more if it wasn't so high up."

"Could dragon-flame be used for things other than fighting Thread?" Lance wondered. "It's not like any of us is likely to ever see Threadfall."

"We don't know that for sure," Cr'stoff argued. "Besides, what else is dragon-flame _for_?"

Lance shrugged. "Especially hot flames for smithing, maybe? It's more directed than a furnace, and surely a dragon could have better control if flame needed to be applied directly."

Cr'stoff made a face. "You'd need a lot of practice before you tried that around people, though. No good if you set your Smiths on fire."

"Well, no," Lance agreed. "And maybe some sort of reflector, so the flame stayed in a small area."

 _I think I almost have it!_ Amarth said, letting loose another blast of fire. Lance turned his head to watch as it lashed out, staying tight and concentrated even paces away from her. That was just the sort of thing he had been thinking of.

 _I would not mind doing this for one of your smiths, Lan,_ Amarth commented, suppressing another hiccup. _I would find it most agreeable to flame all day, I think._

"Wouldn't your throat get raw?" Lance asked.

Her eyes whirled in thought. _Maybe. But I think if I practised, I could make flame for a long time._

Lance thought about all the lectures they'd endured on the dangers of flaming uncontrolledly, and the importance of discipline, and the horror stories of what could happen in so many different circumstances, and shuddered. "Maybe when you've gotten more used to it," he said.

"I'd be careful about letting W'son know what you're up to," Cr'stoff commented. "The more traditional elements might not see it the way you do."

"Practice is practice though, right?" Lance said. "If we're working on controlling Amarth's flame, it'll be useful no matter what."

"I guess so." Cr'stoff shook his head. "Some people aren't going to like what you're thinking of using it for, though."

"I know." Lance could just imagine what W'son would say to the suggestion that a dragonrider be involved in _trade_ , much less a dragon herself.

"All right," Cr'stoff said. "Just — be careful, all right? I've never heard of a trainee being kicked out for eccentricity, but don't give them an excuse for it. I'd better go see how Mesarth's getting on." He patted Amarth's flank companionably and ducked back around the blue's tail.

 _He is worried,_ Amarth observed.

"What, for me?" Lance kept his voice down, and pretended to be busy finding her another chunk of firestone. "Don't be silly. Cr'stoff doesn't care what I do."

 _Maybe I am wrong. I don't understand people well,_ Amarth said. _But I think it would be fun to melt metal. Do they really do that in Smith Halls?_

"They do," he promised her. "I saw one when I was small." He hadn't been allowed near, of course, but he had watched from the foreman's balcony, his eyes watering from the heat, as shimmering metal was poured out of the huge furnace and into a mould. He couldn't remember, now, what it had been for, but he still remembered the stream of metal, too hot to look at directly.

 _They might not need dragons,_ Amarth said, breaking in on his recollection. _It sounds like they have things very hot already._

Lance shrugged. "It was only a thought," he said awkwardly. "Would you like another piece of firestone?"

Amarth though about it for a moment. _No,_ she said, _I think I have had what I need for now._ She took a deep breath and let out a straight jet of flame. Lance could feel the heat crisp his face, and it was a solid near-white all along its length.

 _I liked that one,_ Amarth said smugly.

"Very good," W'son said from behind Lance. Lance tried not to jump, and turned to face the instructor. W'son nodded at him. "Good flame for a beginner. Keep practicing, you'll be a real asset to a Wing." He nodded again and continued on down the row of trainees.

Lance craned his neck to watch his progress around Amarth's tail. "Did W'son just tell us we'd done well?" he asked in a murmur. "That really happened?"

 _Even he has to admit I am good sometimes,_ Amarth said, producing another gout of flame. _But it was nice of him to say so._

"W'son being nice," Lance mused, returning to his place by her shoulder. "Isn't that something."

*

"Group one!" W'son called from Jeruth's back, Jeruth conveying his words at the same time. "Take off and find standard Wing formation, and as soon as you have it, fly south for twenty heartbeats, keeping formation. Loop around, and go into wide formation as fast as possible on the return. Go!"

Lance and Amarth were part of Group One; she leapt into the air and circled around tightly, leaving the way clear for the larger dragons while staying close to get into her spot. Once J'stin and Porath — the assigned Wingleaders for the exercise — were airborne, she fell into her position on the left flank, where she could use her speed and agility.

They sped southwards, for what Lance thought was longer than twenty heartbeats, but maybe he was counting wrong. Then J'stin called for a wide sweep around; the rest of the trainees were responding almost before Porath sent the instruction, the wing clinging together through the rush of wind — Lance could almost feel the formation in the currents of air, and the way it spread out after the turn like gears meshing. When he could see the Weyr clearly again, the other half of the trainee class waiting on the heights and W'son's Jeruth almost hovering above them all, Lance expected J'stin to call for slower flight, or maybe more speed, to make a dramatic return, but instead of a landing, J'stin called for another formation change.

 _What is he doing?_ Amarth asked, already sliding into her new place, a careful distance from the next dragon, letting the Wing cover a wider span. 

"I don't know, but go with it." Lance glanced down as they passed over the heights and could see the trainees watching them. "If we break formation, we'll mess everyone up."

 _I know, I just wish I knew what he was planning,_ Amarth grumbled. J'stin called for another turn, directing them back towards the heights, followed by a return to the regular formation. This time the instruction to land came when Lance was expecting it, and they settled into the clear space surrounded by the other trainees — larger dragons first, then the small ones around the edges, kicking up dust and clods of earth and rock as the dragons' claws dug in to brake them.

"J'stin, that was not what I asked you to do," W'son said sternly, landing Jeruth on the other side of the heights. "You pulled it off successfully, but I give instructions for a reason. The rest of you," he looked over the whole Wing, and Lance ducked his head, "You followed commands promptly and well, even if they weren't what you were expecting. Well done."

Lance blinked in surprise — he'd been expecting a dressing-down for them all. _Do you think he's feeling all right?_ he asked Amarth.

 _Porath looks far too smug,"_ she said. _I don't think they ever intended to follow instructions._

Lance looked over — not to gauge Porath's expression, but J'stin's — but before he could come to a conclusion, W'son was calling them again. "Group One, clear out of the way so Group Two can work!"

The second training Wing included Cr'stoff and J'sha, balancing each other near the ends of the Wing. J'sep on Chenth had a spot near the centre, backing up the bronze leader — Lance still wasn't sure of his name, as he rarely spoke up. Lance blinked through the swirling dust and had to admit it looked very impressive, all the dragons moving in concert and holding together as if with invisible wires. They swept off to the south, following W'son's instructions, turning and looping and then moving back into a standard formation.

They were on the approach back to the heights when it all fell apart. It looked like the leader tried to pull off J'stin's stunt of improvising, but without J'stin's confidence; one brown hesitated, the blue next to him tried to back wind to get out of the maneuver, and the tight formation dissolved, gracelessly funny until a swerving blue collided with J'sep's Chenth and sent both of them flailing down.

"Wing, land now!" W'son bellowed. The rest of the dragons started landing precipitously on the heights, without any of the grace and order they'd shown in takeoff. Lance patted Amarth and darted through them, trying to get close to Chenth and the blue, who looked like they were entangled somehow.

"Get a Healer," W'son called to J'sha, still in the air. J'sha nodded and Talath sped for the main Weyr. Lance itched for something useful to do, but he couldn't even tell what needed to be done. "Amarth?" he asked.

 _They're both very upset,_ she said. She sounded distressed. _I can't talk to them._

W'son and a few of the trainees were by the injured dragons; W'son sounded the calmest Lance had ever heard him as he talked Chenth and the blue through righting themselves. By the time J'sha came back with his passenger, they were standing separately, though still shaky. J'sep slid down to the ground easily enough, and Lance let out a breath of relief. The other rider was still in his seat, hands clenched around the harness straps.

"J'sep, stay where you are." The Healer — J'sep's mother, again, Lance realised — squeezed him on the shoulder, patted Chenth, and turned to the other dragon and rider first. The blue had one wing half-extended, with a tear from Chenth's claws. "Are there any injuries I'm not seeing?"

W'son answered — the rider was huddled down against his dragon's neck ridges, not answering. "The wing is the worst of it, but Emelth says T'lin won't talk to him."

The Healer nodded. She stepped in close to the agitated blue — Emelth, Lance supposed — and looked up at his rider. "T'lin, can you answer me?"

There wasn't any response. Emelth made an anxious noise and tried to turn to look up at his rider; with his wing held out, his balance was off, and he had to stagger a step or two sideways to catch himself.

"Someone get over here and talk to T'lin; I need to work on that wing," the Healer said. She barely raised her voice, but it carried across the Heights.

Lance looked around helplessly. Anyone else would know T'lin better than he did. Cr'stoff was already moving to the front of the crowd; he went to Emelth's side and patted his neck, talking up at his shocky rider the whole time. The blue chirred quietly, calmer now, and let the Healer smear numbweed on his torn wing. After a few minutes, T'lin loosened his grip on the straps and slid shakily to the ground. Cr'stoff steadied him and helped him sit down with his back against his dragon's front knee; Emelth twisted his head around to look at him, and T'lin reached out to stroke down his nose.

It felt like the entire trainee group took a deep breath of relief.

 _Chenth says his leg hurts,_ Amarth murmured.

Lance looked back over at J'sep and his dragon. While almost everyone had been distracted by the injured blue, J'sep had sat down as well, leaning against Chenth with his head tipped back. J'sha was crouched next to him, with Talath peering over his shoulder.

Lance finally made himself move and slid through the crowd to join them. "Is he all right?" he asked J'sha.

J'sep opened his eyes, but he didn't sit up. "I'm fine," he said. "Chenth hurt his leg."

Lance looked up at Chenth; the brown held up his other foreleg and made a small whimpering sound. Lance patted his neck awkwardly. "Aw, they'll fix you, I promise."

"J'sep?" J'sha said. Lance looked back down. J'sep's head had tipped over to one side, and he was slouching further against Chenth's shoulder.

"Hey, come on, talk to us," Lance said.

"'M tired," J'sep slurred out. Lance went cold. Sellat had slurred like that after the wagon beam hit him in the head, and he'd said he was fine, but he'd never woken up the next morning.

"You can't go to sleep, J'sep!" Lance grabbed him under the armpits and hauled him more upright as best he could, then patted at his face until J'sep opened his eyes again. "You have to stay awake."

"Stop both'ring me." J'sep batted at Lance's hand, and at Chenth's nose when the dragon nudged him.

"Healer Fliss says to keep him talking," J'sha said, arriving back at Lance's side. Lance hadn't even noticed him leaving. "She'll be here in a minute. Are his eyes meant to look like that?"

J'sha tipped J'sep's chin up; one eye looked normal, but the other one had a wide pupil, even though it was still broad daylight. 

"That can't be right."

J'sep squeezed his eyes shut. "Ever'thing looks funny."

"I'm not surprised. Hey, J'sep, Cr'stoff said he's sure Mesarth can beat Chenth in a race, did you hear that?"

"What!" J'sep sat up straighter at J'sha's words, then slumped back against Chenth. "He's a — dirty liar."

"Are you sure? He's got a point, Chenth's kind of big for maneuvering."

"Chenth's — faster than he'll ever be, Cr'stoff's making it up. He can—" Lance tuned J'sep out as he looked around for the Healer. She was wiping at Emelth's wing, and it looked like the tear had stopped bleeding. She pointed at two of the nearby trainees and said something he couldn't hear, then picked up her bag and started towards them.

"Your mother's coming, J'sep. She'll make sure you're all right."

J'sep groaned. "She's gonna tell me she told me this was dangerous." He patted at Chenth with one hand. "Not your fault."

"What happened?" Lance asked.

J'sep shook his head a little. "I thought he wasn't going to move, and I got in the way."

"But aren't you—" Bigger, Lance was going to say, because he was pretty sure all the other browns and bronzes made the blues and greens wait just because they were smaller, but J'sep's mother was there suddenly, with her bag of — things. All the jars packed together looked ominous.

"You idiot," she said briskly, but Lance could hear the concern and fondness underneath. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," J'sep said. "They didn't let me go to sleep."

"Good," his mother said, peeling his eyelids open further. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, just a headache."

"I'm not surprised. Does anything else hurt?"

"Nah. My head's too thick to damage much."

"Not funny," she snapped, then softened. "You'll be all right, but take it easy for a bit. No, stay there for now." She stood up and turned to Chenth. "What about you?"

The brown held up his forelimb and whimpered again. The Healer smiled.

"All right, we'll get you sorted out."

She was quick but thorough and careful as she felt over all the joints and along the bones. "I think it's just bruising," she said as she gently prodded Chenth's shoulder. "Don't do too much flying for a few days -- to the feeding grounds and back, that's it -- and J'sep shouldn't be flying either, so that will work." She rummaged in her basket and pulled out a bottle of dark liquid that she held out to Lance and J'sha. "Well, _one_ of you take it." She shook it until Lance had hold of it. "Good. Rub that in all around Chenth's shoulder. I know dragonhide is tough, but do your best to work it into the muscles, it'll help. Can one of you —" She turned around and nearly bumped into J'stin behind her. "You, perfect. Take J'sep back to the Weyr with you, please. I don't trust him not to fall off right now."

J'stin nodded and went to help J'sep up, ignoring his protests.

The Healer closed the woven lid of her basket. For just a second she looked very tired, and Lance bit his lip. Then she looked up again, and he wondered if he had imagined it. "J'sha, you'll give me a lift back down to the Weyr, right?"

"Of course." She followed J'sha towards Talath, calling out more instructions as she went, and that left Lance alone facing Chenth. He lifted the bottle of medicine at the big brown.

"I'll see you down at ground level, I guess?"

Chenth let out a snort that sounded amused, and turned to limp towards the edge of the rocks. Another brown and one of the larger blues flanked him, and all three of them coasted down to the Weyr bowl together, the other dragons taking Chenth's weight as they landed.

Lance tucked the bottle inside his shirt and went to Amarth, waiting for him near the edge. He leaned against her for a moment before getting on.

 _They will be all right,_ she assured him, her eyes whirling anxiously. _None of the damage is serious, I am sure._

Lance nodded against her hide. "I know. It's just — it happened so fast. I never saw it coming." It had been very much like the wagon beam that hit Sellat, he thought darkly — the same inevitable collision, too big to stop. 

Lance had been wondering how either of the injured dragons would get up to their weyrs when they couldn't fly properly -- were they just going to sleep on the ground? But Amarth nudged him towards the Lower Caverns, and he found Chenth and Emelth already settled in two of the low, open niches nearby, that Lance had assumed were failed building attempts, or maybe something that had a purpose in summer that he hadn't seen yet. Lance waited until Chenth looked as comfortable as he was likely to get, and then held up the bottle of medicine questioningly. Chenth stretched out his injured leg and made a groaning sound, which Lance figured was a yes. He scrambled up onto the platform -- nothing like as hollowed-out as the proper dragon weyrs -- and uncorked the bottle.

The stuff in the bottle smelled a little bit like the spiced pudding Lance's mother made for holidays, and a little like a smoky chimney. It felt oily and thick when he spread it between his hands, but it went on to Chenth's hide easily enough. His muscles were heavy, and Lance's hands quickly ached from trying to work the stuff into them.

 _He says up a little higher,_ Amarth told him.

Lance muttered something under his breath about dragons who supervised, and shifted his hands. "There?"

 _Much better,_ she reported.

Lance's hands hurt, but he kept at it as long as he could, rubbing all around Chenth's shoulder. Finally he couldn't do any more, and stepped back. "Is that better for now?"

The way Chenth rumbled and curled his head around to rest on his flank was answer enough, even before Amarth chimed in with _He says that is much better, thank you._

"Right." Lance re-corked the bottle and tried to wipe the extra goo off his hands onto the rock. "I guess -- should I return this?" He looked around.

 _J'sep is in the Lower Caverns,_ Amarth said. _You should go see him._

"Does he want visitors?" Lance fidgeted when Chenth cracked one sleepy eye half-open and snorted. "Fine, I'll go see him."

 _Turn right instead of left towards the kitchens,_ Amarth said. 

The Lower Caverns were bustling; preparations for evening meal were already under way, of course, and the small children of the Weyr were still about. And of course, two trainees and their dragons had gotten hurt. Lance hoped there hadn't been some other injury, at least. But the Healer who passed him in the corridor, carrying a large basket and presumably going out to help Emelth with his wing, looked calm, not like there had been some other disaster. Good; one was enough for a day.

Lance wondered if he was going to have to ask Amarth for directions, but it soon became clear enough where he needed to go. The corridors lost their busyness as he moved away from the kitchens and the nursery and school, and while he could still hear voices, they were more hushed.

Lance started glancing into open doorways. After a few that were obviously storerooms, he found J'sep, along with the rest of their group, plus a new Healer, who seemed to be checking for any other injuries.

Lance hung in the doorway, wondering if there was enough space for one more. But J'sep spotted him over the Healer's shoulder before Lance could go try to return the bottle of goop.

"J'mes!" he said, very happily for someone who'd been knocked on the head. "Chenth says thank you."

"I just--" Lance held up the bottle of salve. "I hope it helps."

"I think the knock on the head is the worst of it," the Healer said, standing up from by J'sep's bed. "I'll let you visit in peace now -- but don't stay too long. He needs quiet time to recover." He collected a few things and left the room.

"Has anyone told Kellit you were foolish enough to get into a collision?" Cr'stoff asked J'sep. 

J'sep blanched. "I think my mother told her," he said. "I hope so, or I'm going to be in even more trouble."

"As you should be," Cr'stoff told him, flopping down on a clear bit of bed and making a face. "Wow, they don't want you to get too comfortable here, do they? I've sat on softer rocks."

There was a pounding of fast-approaching footsteps, and a woman Lance recognised vaguely burst into the room. 

"J'sep, you're an idiot," she said, looking at J'sep from the doorway.

"Kellit!" J'sep said happily. He started trying to sit up, but she swooped across the room and pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

"Don't move," she told him. "You're not going to move, or _you're_ going to have to explain to Brinna why her daddy's head is broken and why mommy strangled him."

"I--" J'sep started, but she raised an eyebrow and he held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry."

"As you should be," she said. She looked around at the rest of them. "Thank you all for your help," she said, "but now I'm going to yell at him, and he probably doesn't want witnesses."

Lance was only too glad to obey. J'stin lingered, looking back at the doorway even when they were all in the corridor outside.

"She's not really going to yell at him, is she?" he asked. "The Healer said he needed quiet time."

Chr's snorted. "I dunno if he's going to get _quiet_ time, but she's probably not going to yell at him. Much." He thought about it, then tipped his head sideways. "Not the whole time, anyway."

"You mean — but there isn't even a door," Lance said, a little scandalised by what Cr'stoff was implying. Didn't Weyrfolk care about privacy at _all_? "Anyone could just walk in!"

J'sha shrugged. "A Healer wouldn't let a door stop them," he said. "And anyone else will know to give some warning."

"Besides," Cr'stoff added, "It's not like J'sep and Kellit are going to get athletic. You heard the Healer — J'sep needs quiet. And those beds really aren't comfortable."

"And how do you know that, Cr'stoff?" J'stin asked, teasing.

"Well, you see — in my younger days —" Cr'stoff started.

Lance did his best not to listen, for the sake of his blushes, but from the others' laughter, it was probably futile.

It was strange to look up at evening meal and not see J'sep across the table, but Cr'stoff's outrageous stories, J'stin's attempts to outdo him, and J'sha's quiet interjections that you really had to _listen_ to to notice — they felt comfortable in a way that almost made up for the lack.

*

 _I would not mind mating with Chenth,_ Amarth said idly after the meal, when Lance had gotten all the way back to his quarters and managed to finally cool his flushed skin.

"What?" he yelped. "You're much too young! And he's -- he's injured!"

 _But very handsome, and strong too._ Her voice turned thoughtful. _His leg would have to heal first, of course, but after that I see no reason why not._

Lance flopped onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. "Why are you telling me these things?" he moaned.

 _Well, I thought you would like to know._ Amarth sounded surprised. _Unless you think I am making a poor choice. There is Porath, he is also strong and fast._

"Bronzes don't fly greens," Lance said flatly. "And even if they did, I doubt _J'stin's_ bronze would."

 _Just as well._ There was an indefinable sense of her wrinkling her nose. _He's also very full of himself._

"Well, yeah." Lance rubbed his ears -- they were tingling from all the blushing he'd been doing. "Why are you thinking about this?"

 _I think about things._ Her tone wasn't giving anything away. _Now Emelth, on the other hand -- he is nice, but he's not very bright. I do not think I would want to mate with him, even if he were fast enough._

"Good to know," Lance sighed. He lay back on his bed. "What about dragons who _aren't_ your clutch-mates?" He couldn't help making a face as he remembered that.

 _Most of the older dragons don't talk much to me,_ Amarth said wistfully. _I suppose they think I'm silly._

"You're not silly," Lance said automatically. 

_You don't think so?_ she sounded hopeful.

"You think about things. That's not silly."

 _Oh._ There was a pause. _I'm glad you don't think I'm silly. You hadn't told me that before._ Lance could hear the shifting sounds as she arranged herself in her depression of rock. _I think I will go to sleep too._

"Sleep well," Lance replied automatically. His mind was scrabbling, trying to grab on to something that was just out of his reach, but he couldn't quite get it. 

*

Training the next day was subdued. J'sep was out of the infirmary, but on healers' orders not to exert himself, and T'lin was staying with his injured blue. It cast a pall over the rest of the trainees, deepened by W'son's lecture on the importance of following orders exactly and immediately, followed by exercises in doing exactly that. Even J'stin wasn't spared. By midday, Lance felt exhausted, and most of the other trainees were drooping as well. Thankfully, W'son cancelled classes for the afternoon, telling them instead that he wanted a report from each of them on an instance where not following instructions led to disaster, or following them would have changed the outcome of a situation for the better.

"I can't believe he's making us do this," J'stin whined, dropping into the seat across from Lance at the table and dropping his head into his arms. "We're not here to shuffle musty old hides!"

Cr'stoff clapped him on the shoulder. "You can talk about how refusing to complete an assignment led to your instructor making you repeat training, and you never becoming Weyrleader."

J'stin's head popped up. "Would that really happen?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Sure." Cr'stoff nodded. "Porath will probably turn brown from the shame."

J'stin's eyes narrowed and he thumped Cr'stoff in the side, making him drop his bread roll. "You're making that up."

Cr'stoff nodded again. "Probably. It could all be in my head."

"Porath probably wouldn't actually turn brown," Lance offered. "Embarrassment just slows dragons' growth and makes them smaller."

"But that's -- wait, how come you know that?" J'stin stared at Lance across the table. Lance just chewed his food and looked back as placidly as he could. "Shells." J'stin slumped over his tray again. "You're all making it up."

"I could be," Lance agreed.

"J'sha!" J'stin appealed to the newest arrival. "They're making that up, right? You'd know if there was anything in the stories about that happening!"

"Wait, what's happening?"

"We're telling J'stin about how the shame of him having to repeat training and never becoming Weyrleader could make Porath turn brown and not grow," Cr'stoff said. "J'sep, what are you doing here, I thought you'd be enjoying some _special_ time with Kellit." He waggled his eyebrows.

"She said she was busy and threw me out," J'sep said, sitting down. "I dunno about Porath staying small, J'stin. I mean, maybe another dragon wouldn't, but you've raised his expectations kind of high, you know? It's going to make it more of a disappointment to fail."

J'sha had screwed up his face, thinking. "You know," he said at last, "There was a reference in some old hides I read..."

"Rocks to all y'all," J'stin declared, dropping his fork. "You're making it up and I'm gonna eat somewhere else." He collected his tray and stalked away, with a last wounded look over his shoulder at them.

"He's going outside to make sure Porath hasn't shrunk, isn't he?" Cr'stoff asked.

J'sep stretched up, peering over the seated crowd. "Looks that way, yup."

"We're terrible people," J'sha said. He didn't sound all that upset about it.

Cr'stoff waved a hand. "It'll do him good. Instill a little healthy paranoia."

Lance grinned down at his plate. "Think he'd believe us if we started making comments about how Porath's looking?"

"Ooh, good thought," Cr'stoff said. "Ask him if he's noticed—"

Lance didn't hear the end of what Cr'stoff said, as a shove from behind nearly landed him face-first in his food, and sent his fork flying across the table. He regained his balance and looked around, to see a pair of dragonriders — in their early twenties, maybe, from the last Hatching — a little ways down in the space between the tables, looking back at him. One of them blatantly looked Lance up and down when he turned around, and said something to his companion that made both of them laugh.

The sound made Lance's skin crawl, but not as much as the look the second dragonrider gave him before they turned away to find seats. He hunched his shoulders and retrieved his fork, stabbing at the root vegetables rather than eating them.

"Yeah, that's right, you just keep going," Cr'stoff muttered. Lance looked up at him, but he was looking over Lance's shoulder — at the riders who had jostled him, Lance realised. J'sha was glaring that direction as well — which wasn't as intimidating as Cr'stoff's glare, but Lance appreciated the intent.

J'sep nudged Lance's arm gently. "Steer clear of those two, J'mes," he said. "They're bad news."

Lance tapped his fork on his plate. "I wasn't planning on going over there to be pals, J'sep."

"Good." Cr'stoff aimed one last dirty look at the pair, then returned his attention to Lance. "I'm maybe not the most refined guy," he stole a chunk of root from Lance's plate and popped it in his mouth as if to demonstrate, "But there's refinement and then there's going around sharing details that should stay private."

Lance raised an eyebrow and J'sha nodded back. "I've heard way too many stories that start out, 'S'lir said.'" He made a face. "If you're going to make fun of them in a couple of days, why go to bed with someone in the first place, you know?"

Lance looked back down and pushed his plate away, appetite gone. This was what he had to look forward to? J'sep nudged him again.

"I think they're making most of it up," he said. "I mean, whose dragon would let _them_ catch her?"

 _Their dragons smell funny,_ Amarth said primly. _Tell J'sep I have much better taste._

Lance dropped his face into his hand and laughed — he couldn't help it.

"J'mes? Are you all right?"

Lance waved a hand at whoever was talking to him. "I'm fine." He giggled for another minute, then sat up and wiped his eyes. "That was — Amarth says she has much better taste, J'sep, you're completely right."

J'sep held out his hands to J'sha and Cr'stoff. "See?"

"We'll protect your virtue!" Cr'stoff announced, almost too loudly. "You'll be as well-preserved as a Weyrlady— eep!"

"Nice aim," J'sha said admiringly.

"Thank you."

"My nose may be gravy-covered, but my honour remains unsmirched!" Cr'stoff declared, pointing at Lance. "I'll defend you from all comers, fair J'mes—"

"All right, that's enough," J'sha said, and clapped a hand over Cr'stoff's mouth. "Ew, don't lick me."

"Let's leave before he really gets going," J'sep suggested. He collected their dishes together and left Lance and J'sha to walk Cr'stoff out, still talking behind J'sha's hand — or maybe he was just making noises, Lance couldn't tell.

"J'stin will appreciate my honour," he said, when they were out of the eating hall and J'sha took his hand away. "He has lots. Unless Porath's shrunk already."

"J'stin's probably measuring him now," J'sha said, wiping his hand on Cr'stoff's shirt with a grimace. "How can you lick my hand _while_ you're talking?"

"Natural talent," Cr'stoff told him. "I'm going to go find J'stin."

J'sep and Lance sauntered after them towards the feeding grounds. "How's Chenth?" Lance asked.

"He'll be all right," J'sep said. "His shoulder's still sore, but it's better just after one night resting. He says thank you again for your help, by the way." He grinned at Lance.

Lance ducked his head and looked at the ground, his cheeks flushing. The segue to what he wanted to say was too obvious, but he didn't know when he'd get a better chance. "I think Amarth might rise soon," he blurted out. "W'son says she's almost reached her full growth, and she's — talked about it."

"Yeah, I guess they are almost grown," J'sep said reflectively. "It hardly seems any time at all, does it?"

Lance took a deep breath, then another. "J'sep, would you -- I'd like to know I have someone I can rely on to be there. Even if it's -- some complete stranger who flies her." 

J'sep stopped walking and turned to face Lance. He looked apologetic and worried.

"Lan, if you're asking what I think you are--"

Lance's heart skipped a beat.

"--I'm flattered, but -- I can't. You should pick someone else."

Lance nodded his head rapidly. "Right, sorry. You have Kellit, I shouldn't—"

"No, it's not that, Lance, I'd still help you out. It's--" J'sep broke off and turned his hands palm-up. "I like women. Kellit in particular, yeah, but -- not men."

Lance could feel his face going crimson. He'd misjudged this even more than he had thought. "I thought it didn't matter, in a flight."

"It matters *less*, sure, but -- you don't want to regret it later, all right? You should have someone who likes all of who you are, who's not just going to go back to their weyrmate. I mean, unless you want them to," J'sep fumbled. "If you want them to leave, they should. Shells, stop me talking, please? I'm really bad at this."

"It's all right," Lance said. He glanced up; they were nearly at the feeding grounds, and had almost caught up with Cr'stoff and J'sha. "I just thought I'd ask, you know?"

"I know," J'sep said. "But look, J'mes, just because I said no, it doesn't mean you're stuck with someone like those lumps of used firestone back there, you know? If you asked—"

"It's fine, J'sep," Lance said firmly. He couldn't imagine anything worse than J'sep taking him in hand and trying to match him up with someone, like a well-meaning aunt dragging a spinster around a Gather. Well, one of those two from the hall might be worse, but Lance had time yet to sort that out. "Please don't say anything to anyone."

"But—" J'sep started, then relented when Lance fixed him with a look. "All right. I just think — but all right."

"Thanks," Lance said, and then they were at the feeding grounds — where J'stin might not have been trying to measure Porath, but he certainly seemed to be trying to force him to grow by stuffing him with food.

*

When Lance woke up barely after dawn a few weeks later, he first blamed it — and his unquiet dreams — on the raucous discussion they had had the night before, but then he heard Amarth's keening cry from outside.

"Amarth, are you all right? What's wrong?"

She only called out again, and leapt from the weyr ledge, coasting to the feeding grounds with a few flaps of her wings. Lance stared after her in dawning revelation and horror, then looked around. All around the Weyr, dragons were perched outside their weyrs, watching Amarth with bright interest. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a spoon.

He had to get to the feeding grounds *now*.

Lance grabbed his trousers and struggled into them as fast as he could, stomping his feet into boots even as he stumbled down the stairs outside. He almost tripped and paused to finish putting clothes on -- falling and injuring himself right now would only make everything even worse. After that, he was able to race down the rest of the stairs and across the packed earth to the feeding grounds. 

He caught himself against the rough wall of the pasture, and looked across at Amarth. She was crouched over a carcass, but even as he watched, she launched herself into the air again and pounced on another beast, this time not even bothering to lift it out of the pasture before she began to feed. Lance couldn't remember -- was he supposed to tell her only to drink the blood, or was that only for golds? It didn't matter -- she didn't seem very interested in the meat anyway, more in the destruction. Her hide was darkening as Lance watched, turning a deep, glowing green he'd never seen before. She flung her head back and bugled again, a clear, brassy sound, and Lance's knees almost buckled. She wanted, oh she *wanted*.

"Careful." Hands on his arms helped steady him until he got a better grip on the wall, then dropped away. Lance barely registered the presence of other people around him, but he saw the dragons coming to the feeding ground, clustering together in a fan around Amarth, as if her cry had been a signal.

She bent her head one more time to tear at the carcass she was sitting on, then crouched low, glaring around at the assembled dragons before she sprang upwards, faster and higher than Lance had ever seen her before. He was hit with another wave, a mixture of _get away! escape!_ and a gleeful _catch me! chase me!_ He shook his head, trying to push the feelings away.

"J'mes! You have to stay with her!" Someone shook his shoulders, then just held on and squeezed as the assembled dragons thundered upwards after Amarth. "If you let her go, you could lose her!"

 _I know exactly where she is_ was what Lance wanted to say, but he was too busy trying to stay afloat in a stream of emotions coming from Amarth. He could feel the air under his wings, rushing past him -- no! He was human! This was his body, here on the ground, not up there, and he didn't want to be chased!

He was shaken again, and a lighter voice broke into his consciousness. "J'mes! She's faltering without you! She needs -- oh, shells." A forceful slap knocked his head to one side and pitched him into pure sensation.

He was flying fast, so fast, and there was no way they would catch up with him, none at all! He twisted through the air, feeling the surface of it under his wings and the rough stone in his talons -- no, hands. She exulted in her speed and cleverness -- a glance flung back over his shoulder showed the pursuing dragons gaining but still well behind. He caught a thermal and raced upwards; she clutched at the wall and felt hands steady her.

The pack of dragons was gaining more now, the clever ones using the same trick she had. The slow ones had dropped out exhausted, and he thrilled to know he had outlasted them. She leveled out and flew straight and steady for the horizon, stretching every muscle towards that goal, but she was slowing. Another glance back revealed a brown in the lead, very close. She tucked her wings and rolled sideways, jinking away and losing height, crossing into the path of a blue who dropped down, snapped his wings out just before they collided, and snagged her talons in his, both of them tumbling down together. She bugled again, a victorious scream of loss, and spread her wings to match her mate's, her chosen's.

Lance reeled back, feeling a body solid behind him and rough stubble scraping against his cheek. "J'mes? Are you with us?" He nodded, or thought he did, half of his consciousness still tumbling through the sky miles away. His hands were still gripping cold stone -- that was wrong. He unknotted his fingers and found warm cloth and leather instead. That was better.

"You're good, you're so good," a voice murmured, and he thought of dark hair and dark eyes and nodded. 

He felt other hands on him, holding him up, holding both of them up. "J'mes, can you come this way? Come on, walk."

 _That's not my name,_ he thought, and moved his legs, one after the other to walk -- not wings, legs. He stumbled into the body he was clutching on to, but she had pushed free, flying a tight spiral up to prove that she could and her blue could catch her, and that helped.

He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, letting the gentle hands steer him, until his knees knocked into something and he stumbled again and fell onto a soft surface. The one he was holding on to fell down with him -- _yes, this one, this one_ , Amarth echoed in his head. There were voices still, but he wasn't listening to them, too busy trying to uncover skin and get through these layers that were good to hold on to, but were now just in the way. Then there was only one voice.

"J'mes," and there were hands trapping his wrists, pulling him away from his goal. He hissed in annoyance, but the voice said, "Hang on," and the hands let go of him to skim off shirt and leather vest all together, and to pull off his nightshirt, leaving both of them naked from the waist up. Yes! Lance dove in again, desperate to touch and rub and rut, but the hands stilled him again, made him look the man in the face.

"Are you all right?" he asked, and Lance stared -- _dark eyes, dark hair, this one_ \-- unable to find words to reply. Then another pulse of feeling from Amarth hit him and he shuddered.

" _Yes_ ," he hissed out, and that was enough, it seemed.

The touch of skin on skin was even better than he had thought, soothing and inflaming him further all at the same time. He was rolled over onto his back and he clawed at skin, pulling the man closer, on top of him. Oh, that was good. He rubbed his face against the other's shoulder, taking in the scent he hadn't known was familiar. There was a clonk, and the bedframe shook.

Lance was left alone on the bed again. "What?"

"You're completely gone, aren't you? No, I promise, this'll be even better without boots."

Boots, yes, pants, he could deal with those. His fingers fumbled -- why were buttons so _small_? -- but he pushed them off and shoved at his boots until those hit the floor as well. Then he was pushed back on the bed, and yes, yes, this was definitely even better without boots. He pulled the other man down again, hooking one leg over his hip to keep him there. Their cocks rubbed together and Lance gasped aloud, his hips jolted upwards.

"Shells, so good," the man muttered, and reached between them, wrapping his hand around Lance's cock as well. "Here, like this," and guided them into a rhythm that made Lance groan and throw his head back against the mattress. He thought he shouted, or maybe that was Amarth, and then he gave up thinking at all.

*

The room was wrecked, was the first muzzy thing that came to mind when Lance opened his eyes. There wasn't much to it, but the single chair was tipped over, and clothing was flung everywhere. He wasn't even sure where he was; he'd been more focused on -- he broke off as the warm body tucked up against his back shifted and groaned. Barely breathing, he craned his neck around until he could see unruly dark hair, stubble, and narrow shoulders. Cr'stoff.

Lance stifled a groan of his own. He'd acted -- he really _had_ acted like a green in heat -- which reminded him.

"Amarth?" he whispered.

 _Mmmhmm,_ came back to him, more a purr than any sort of words. Well, _she_ was feeling fine.

Lance slid out of the bed, causing as little disturbance as possible, and gathered his clothes from where they were scattered about the room. He paused after fastening his pants and looked back at the bed, but Cr'stoff didn't seem to have moved. Lance picked up his boots and crept out. More than anything right now, he wanted a bath.

*

"This is where you got to."

Lance jerked in startlement, but the movement translated to barely a ripple in the water. He'd scrubbed ... stuff... off with handfuls of sand, and he'd been leaning back in the hot pool, letting the water relax the muscle aches he wasn't thinking too hard about. He blinked his eyes open at Cr'stoff, and fought the urge to cover himself with his hands.

"It's not like I ran away," he said, somewhat defensively. "Wait, what are you doing?"

Cr'stoff paused in stripping off his shirt and arched an eyebrow. "Having a bath?"

"But-- I'm in here!" Lance fixed his gaze on a section of wall distinguished only by not being anywhere near Cr'stoff.

"Don't worry, there's room." Cr'stoff finished stripping and slid into the water on the opposite side of the pool. "Ah, that's better."

Lance glared at him for a few seconds, then burst out, "I'm not going to get out just because you're in here."

"Glad to hear it," Cr'stoff said lazily. "Wouldn't expect you to. Wait, how've you been getting baths so far without ending up sharing before this?"

The answer involved getting up very early, but Lance just shrugged rather than explaining.

"I was kind of disappointed to find you gone this morning," Cr'stoff said. "I was hoping we could get a little better acquainted," he waggled his eyebrows, "If you know what I mean. But this was an excellent idea, top marks."

"I'm glad you approve," Lance said coldly. "But I think we got plenty acquainted last night."

"Well, sure," Cr'stoff said, "But I thought it might be interesting to see what we could do when taking our time is an option. We have the perfect reason to skip training; we could take _all_ day."

Lance gritted his teeth. "It's one thing when we can't help ourselves -- when it's unavoidable, but I'm not interested in continuing this -- perversion," he spat out. "It's done, fine; I'd really prefer to forget about it."

He found himself pinned in place by Cr'stoff sharp eyes. "Really?" Cr'stoff asked softly. "You think this is perversion?"

"What else can it be?" Suddenly, as much as he had wanted the bath, Lance wanted to be out of it. Company be flamed, he pulled himself out of the water and grabbed up a drying cloth from the stack at one side. "Just because you think it's normal doesn't make it right."

The rush of water and two quick footsteps were a warning, and Lance just had time to turn around before Cr'stoff was right up in his space, dark eyes snapping with anger. "And just because you've been taught it's wrong doesn't make it that way." He took another step forward, and another, until Lance was backed up against the smooth stone wall. "But if you really don't want this, say so and I'll let it go."

"I don't--" Lance started, and Cr'stoff took the last step to close the distance between them, tugging his head down to kiss Lance's half-open mouth. A wave of remembered pleasure swept over Lance. His knees trembled and he leaned into Cr'stoff, but then one hand made contact with bare skin and he jerked back like he'd been burned.

_Lan? What's wrong?_

"Go on," Cr'stoff said. "Tell me you didn't want that." He took a half-step back and stared at Lance expectantly.

"I can't," Lance whispered.

Cr'stoff's eyes flashed, and he leaned forward again, only to be stopped by Lance's hand on his shoulder.

"I can't," Lance said again. "I can't want this."

Cr'stoff jerked back and stared at Lance like he'd suddenly started whistling like a wherry. "What in the First Egg does that mean?"

Lance looked away, and busied himself with tying the drying cloth around his waist. "You wouldn't — you can't understand."

"Too right I don't understand. J'mes, what's wrong?"

Feeling more composed now he was at least somewhat covered, Lance looked down at Cr'stoff, almost meeting his eyes. "This was a necessity. Please don't make more of it than that." He scooped up his clothes and pushed through the curtain covering the doorway.

He didn't go back to Cr'stoff's quarters — he assumed they were — to dress, instead losing himself in the tangle of corridors until he found a small niche near an exit, where he paused to pull on his clothes as quickly as he could. He'd replace the drying cloth later — or he could just take it to the laundries directly, that would save trouble. He wadded it up in his hand and left the weyr, hurrying down the unfamiliar stairs to ground level.

He wasn't surprised when he saw Amarth sweep overhead before he was more than halfway across the Weyr bowl, nor when he reached the lake shore to find her already there, arranging stones into a pattern. He sat down carefully near her elbow.

 _You are sad,_ she observed. _And angry._

Lance nodded shortly.

 _You are — are you angry at me?_ she asked in a small voice. _Should I not have flown yesterday?_

"No!" he assured her. "No, you couldn't help it. It's just — humans are more complicated." He couldn't suppress a stray thought that dragons were lucky — they did what their instincts demanded, and no one was going to argue that it was wrong.

 _I have noticed that,_ Amarth said. _You think a lot._

Lance laughed shortly. "Yeah, we do." He lay back on the stones and squinted up at the sky. He could just see specks up there, flying. Two of them circled together and then started chasing each other, and he looked away.

_No, I mean you in particular, Lan. You think a lot. I had not heard before._

Puzzled, he rolled his head to look at her. "What do you mean?"

She didn't seem upset, looking out over the lake placidly, but what did that mean, she hadn't noticed before? He closed his eyes and prodded at the connection in his mind, the one that had flared to life when she had looked at him and said, _I'm Amarth!_ It seemed a lot brighter now. Lance bit his lip and thought, _Can you hear me?_

_Yes!_

He wasn't sure how you made your thoughts quieter, but he tried anyway, and thought, _What about now?_

 _Yes?_ She sounded puzzled -- either she was unsure or she wasn't sure why he was asking.

_I don't know why you're asking. I can hear you._

He hadn't even put that thought into words, really. "You couldn't do this before."

He felt her answer before he heard it. _No. I heard you when you spoke to me, even if you were far away, but only then._

A suspicion was starting to creep at him. "So when did this happen? Being able to hear me so clearly?"

_Since yesterday, when I flew. When I came back, I could hear you better._

And what he'd been doing at that point -- Lance felt his face heat, but it wasn't like she hadn't been doing the same thing. He dragged his mind back to what he was trying to puzzle out. "Was I shutting you out?"

_You didn't mean to._

Which meant he had. _I'm sorry._

Amarth reached over and nudged his leg with her nose. As big as she was, it was more of a shove, but it was well-meant. _Lan. We will be better with each other from now on. Can't you feel it?_

He could; the bond was clearer, as if he had been talking to her with his hands over his ears all this time. 

_And you were there for me when I needed it,_ she added gently. _That is what matters._

At least there had been a good effect of her flight — and that left Lance right back with the thoughts he had been trying to avoid.

 _I still do not understand why you are angry, or at whom,_ Amarth said. _Is it Cr'stoff? I would not have picked Mesarth if he thought his rider was a bad man._

Lance thought that of course Mesarth thought Cr'stoff was wonderful — he was the man's dragon. "No, it's not — he's not a bad man." It might be easier if he were, after all — if Lance didn't have memories and evidence of how well Cr'stoff had looked after him, even when both of them were out of their minds. "I suppose I'm angry at myself."

Amarth thought about that for a minute or so. _You do not make sense sometimes,_ she told him, faint disapproval colouring her words.

"I don't know if I make sense to myself," Lance admitted. 

_Well, perhaps you can explain it to Cr'stoff. He's coming around the lake now._

"What?" Lance scrambled to sit up, viciously aware of what a stunned wherry he must have looked, sprawled out on his back on the shore. Sure enough, Cr'stoff was picking his way along the shore from where he must have landed out of earshot. Mesarth was already splashing in the shallows. There was no way for Lance to escape without it being very obvious that that was what he was doing.

 _I think I will go for another swim,_ Amarth said innocently, and hauled herself to her feet. _It gets very hot in the middle of the day._

The breeze was sharp enough that Lance was glad of his heavy jerkin. _Traitor,_ he thought furiously at her.

 _It is for your own good._ Amarth didn't even twitch her tail as she sauntered down to the water's edge.

Lance tried to convey his opinion of that without words, and got back a sense that — well, from his mother, it would have been a reproving sniff. He wasn't sure how that translated into dragon.

"Mesarth said you come down here a lot," Cr'stoff said, stopping a couple of bodylengths away and looking out over the lake. 

"I—" Lance's voice cracked like a youngling's and he had to clear his throat. "I like the water."

"Don't they have water at — what was it, Fork Hold?"

"Of course they do." 

Cr'stoff shrugged. "Well, what do I know?" He moved closer and, when Lance didn't object, sat down barely within arm's reach. "What was it like growing up there?"

What was he getting at? Lance shrugged. "Like anywhere else, I suppose. Lessons, helping with the beasts — the Holds aren't some unexplored continent, you know."

"Mmm." Cr'stoff leaned back on one elbow. "Well, I suppose we had lessons, and ran around the Lower Caverns, much the same." He glanced sideways at Lance. "Though our lessons never covered whatever made you run like a drenched feline this morning."

Lance glared at him. "I told you, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Cr'stoff coaxed. When Lance continued to glare, he went on. "Even if — whatever about yesterday and this morning, I hope I'm still your friend. Talk to me."

Lance looked down at the flat stones of the beach. "It might be easier if we weren't friendly."

He could tell Cr'stoff was making a face by the sound of his voice. "Is that some sort of riddle I don't understand because I'm not a Holder? Because if it is, I think you need to work on your riddles." He paused as if to let Lance answer, then went on. "It's all right if you were rendered speechless by the sight of my manly glory in all it nakedness, I hear it takes some people that way. Or, well, some girls, J'sep was the one telling the story —"

"I'm not a girl!" Lance snapped, rounding on him.

Cr'stoff held his hands up in front of him. "Whoa, okay, no one's saying you are. I'm quite certain you're not, in fact." He narrowed his eyes. "Wait, does this have to do with why you stormed off this morning?"

Flushing, Lance looked away.

"Uh huh," Cr'stoff said, nodding like Lance had given him an answer. "I'm pretty sure I have no idea what is going on in your head, but I will say that I have never thought you were a girl, regardless of — well, anything." He glanced over Lance. "The voice is kind of a giveaway, for one thing."

Lance gritted his teeth. "I'm not a girl," he said slowly, "Which means — what happened last night was — it was a disgrace to participate."

He stared straight ahead, waiting for the rant Cr'stoff was sure to bring forth. When Cr'stoff didn't say anything, Lance chanced a look over, and found Cr'stoff looking at him with his head tilted to one side, as if he were a new and strange kind of dragon.

"You're going to have to explain better," he said. "What about that was a disgrace?"

"You know what." Lance could feel himself flushing harder. "Do I really have to explain?"

"Yeah, you do!" Cr'stoff snapped back. "Because I don't see what the harm is in something that doesn't hurt anyone. If you — wait, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He switched trains of thought, all concern suddenly.

Lance shook his head with the thought that it might have been easier if he had. Maybe it would have been easier if he hadn't ever known Cr'stoff as a friend, if they'd been strangers — no, his mind shied away from that even more.

"So what's the problem?"

"It isn't that simple!" Lance said. "My parents—" He broke off, unsure how to continue his sentence. Cr'stoff waited, unusually patient.

"What I might want — would never be acceptable in the Hold," Lance said at last, carefully. "Holders — we marry, we have children. It's not like the Weyr." Holds needed people to work, and they didn't need parasites living off other families' labour when they couldn't work themselves, Lance's father had said. The men he was referring to hadn't even been Holders; it was just a piece of gossip that had come in with the cloth traders, but he'd scowled as if he'd happened upon perversity in the very courtyard. Men had a duty, it was that simple — and if Lance refused to do his duty, what was he then?

"But you're not Hold any more," Cr'stoff said.

That stung, and Lance snapped, "Of course I am! I can't change where I come from!"

Cr'stoff nodded, conceding the point. "You _were_ Hold. You're a dragonrider now, you're Weyr. You don't seem to have a problem with anyone else not being properly married — J'sep, for example. Or J'sha, I think he has something going on with that older blue rider — you know, the one with the eyes." Cr'stoff gestured. "Is that a problem?"

Lance shook his head. "Of course not."

"But would the good people of Fork Hold approve?"

Lance thought of Gritha's likely reaction to J'sep's escapades in the Lower Caverns, and coughed out a laugh. "I don't think so, no."

"So if that's all right, why are you holding yourself to a different standard?"

Lance took a deep breath and blew it out heavily. "I don't know." From Cr'stoff's annoyed huff, he found that answer as unsatisfactory as Lance did himself. "It's the truth. I don't care what J'sep gets up to, or J'sha, or — anyone. It's your own business." He shook his head. "I just have trouble applying that to myself."

Cr'stoff didn't say anything right away, and Lance looked out over the water, to where Amarth and Mesarth were splashing around.

"It's allowed, you know," Cr'stoff said suddenly.

"What?"

"Being happy," Cr'stoff said. He pointed at Lance's face. "Like you just were."

"That's a little bit different, Cr'stoff."

Cr'stoff rolled his eyes. "The principle still applies."

Lance looked away again. "There's just the small problem of reconciling the principle with 'the appropriate duties and actions of a man'." He couldn't help his voice falling into a familiar cadence as he quoted his father's oft-repeated lecture to Hold younglings.

Cr'stoff snorted. "Well, I'm of the opinion a man shouldn't go throwing himself around at stupid heights above the ground, and yet." He gestured at his flying gear. 

Lance laughed. "You should have been a cook and stayed safely at ground level."

"Believe me, I tell myself that every time I go _between_." Cr'stoff stood and brushed himself off. "Now, are you still busy with your crisis, or are you coming to training?"

Lance kicked grit at him and stood up himself. "I'll probably be working on it for a while, but no need to give W'son more reasons to yell at me," he said.

"I know _I_ didn't do the homework." Cr'stoff fidgeted from foot to foot, then slapped at Lance's arm and took off running. "Hindmost falls _between_!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"What the—" Lance stood dumbfounded for a moment, then took off in pursuit. "You'll never make it!" he yelled, and then saved his breath for running.

*

"I think you're getting better at that," Lance told Amarth.

She flipped another stone towards the water, and this time it almost skipped twice before disappearing with a "gloop!" _I have been practising,_ she said. _None of the others can do this, so I want to get good at it._

Lance grinned. "Not that you're vindictive at all, of course."

 _I am simply demonstrating advanced skill._ She flipped another stone. _Porath in paticular is not good at this._

"Didn't he make comments the other day about greens' puny endurance?" Lance wondered aloud.

 _He called me puny as well???_ Amarth's head whipped around and she glared first at Lance, then at their surroundings, as if daring Porath to come out and say that to her face.

"No, no, I was paraphrasing." Lance leaned back on his elbows. "I don't think even Porath is foolish enough to say that outright."

Amarth snorted a delicate puff of vapour. _I have **told** him he is to chew the firestones, not drop them on his head..._

"So you're just practising your fine motor skills in case you might need to save him from a falling chunk of rock, then."

 _No._ Amarth selected another flat stone. _I am practising so he will know he is clumsy._

"Right, of course." Lance tipped his head back as a shadow crossed the stone towards them. "I didn't think we'd see you for hours yet. Did J'stin get bored of drills?"

"We mutinied." Cr'stoff flopped down on the rock next to him. "He's never worked out that after a certain point, we're screwing up _more_ , and making us fly the drill over and over is just going to make it worse. Finally, all the dragons decided they were too hungry to keep going." He nodded down towards the feeding grounds, where Mesarth was indeed tearing into a herdbeast. "Mesarth did a very good impression of a fainting spell."

"Dragons don't actually faint, do they?" Lance asked. He thought he would have heard about that before.

Amarth snorted again. _Cr'stoff and his dragon are both very silly._

 _I think they'd both take that as a compliment from you._ Out loud, Lance said, "You didn't mention throttling him, so I guess he didn't say anything about superior bronze stamina."

Cr'stoff let out his own dismissive snort. "Given that Porath was one of the ones complaining about being hungry, I don't think he could have made it work."

 _Clumsy **and** needs stoking like a bad furnace,_ Amarth muttered darkly. Her next stone skipped over the surface four times before sliding out of sight noiselessly. _Ooh, Lan, did you see that one?_

"That was a good one," Lance agreed. "Look out, here comes Mesarth."

"He's going to want scrubbing," Cr'stoff said, and heaved himself up to his feet. "You want to help?"

Lance gestured at his wet pants-cuffs. "I already bathed one dragon."

"She's small," Cr'stoff argued, but he took Lance's scrubbing brush and waded out alone to meet Mesarth in the shallows a little ways down from Amarth's stone-skipping. Mesarth seemed happy enough with a quick scrub and Cr'stoff getting the worst mess off his face, and then he spread his wings and paddled out into the deeper water to float around.

Cr'stoff waded back to shore and wrung out the inevitable splashes on his pants. "D'you think the Smiths could invent an automatic dragon-scrubber that worked by gears or something? Save us all getting soaked."

 _It wouldn't get all the best bits,_ Amarth murmured. She had given up skipping stones when the water had gotten too agitated from Cr'stoff and Mesarth moving around, and was curled up in a neat pile next to Lance. _Like eye-ridges._ She tipped her head towards Lance.

"Was that a hint?" he asked, laughing, but reached up to scratch at the offered ridges. She rumbled happily. "So what are you planning to do with all this free time you have not being hounded by J'stin?" he asked Cr'stoff, who was still dripping.

Cr'stoff flopped down on the stones and tipped his head back to the sun. "There's a little beach I remember going to a couple of times with older riders, on the south coast," he said. "Blue water, nice soft sand—" he kicked at the shingle. "I wonder if it's still there. Amarth, have you ever been to the ocean?"

She craned her neck around, eyes spinning with excitement. _No. Lan, can we go?_

"We could go find out if it's still there," Cr'stoff suggested. "Bring J'stin and make him relax before he explodes from anxiety and self-importance."

"Would J'stin really agree to do that, though, or will we have to bribe Porath?" Lance wondered.

Cr'stoff hummed. "We'll tell him we need to make sure the maps are up to date."

"Ah, so it's a scientific endeavour," Lance said solemnly.

"See, you understand." Cr'stoff grinned over at him. "Scientific endeavours and swimming. And maybe we could take a picnic." He raised his voice. "Not for you, though, you giant lizard!"

Mesarth, still out in the water, yodelled back. It sounded insulting.

"That's settled then." Cr'stoff lay back and closed his eyes. "Any minute now, just let me dry off."

*

The small cove on the beach was much too small for five dragons, but the bigger ones quickly took to the low bluffs overlooking the beach, leaving space for the humans below. J'sep had vanished into the Lower Caverns when Cr'stoff had mentioned the outing, and had come back carrying a large covered basket, which he'd set down on the beach near some large, comfortable stones, and refused to let anyone touch. 

Lance wanted to know what was in there, but first he was taking care of the much more important job of splashing with Amarth in the shallows after the long flight.

 _It's salty, Lan! The water is salty!_ Amarth sounded entirely delighted at this. Lance could barely see her -- she wasn't too far out, but she'd completely submerged herself, only poking her head up now and again to breathe.

 _I think sea water does that,_ he thought back. He was pretty sure he remembered that from some lesson years ago. He took another step into the edge of the waves -- it felt good, but it was cold. Wasn't the south coast supposed to be warm?

_It feels all springy!_

_Are you sure you're a dragon, not a fish?_

J'sha's Talath thrashed past in the shallower water, warbling something high-pitched, like a tune that had been bent out of shape. Lance couldn't help but laugh as Amarth pounced on him, ducking him in the surf and silencing the racket.

"He deserved that," J'sha said from a little ways up the beach. He shuffled through the sand and joined Lance, grinning out at the two dragons.

"I didn't know dragons could sing," Lance said.

J'sha laughed. "I'm still not sure they can, the way we do," he said, and waved a hand out towards where Amarth and Talath were sending great sweeps of water into each other's faces with their wings. "I guess he picked it up from me, but he's started making up his own tunes now."

Lance hadn't heard of creative dragons before. "Was that one he made up?"

"Probably. I'm not sure dragons hear things quite the same way we do — which is why his songs don't always sound right to us." J'sha shrugged. "But who knows, maybe we'll sing duets some day." He looked pleased at the prospect.

"I'm hungry and I'm opening the picnic basket!" J'sep yelled from the sheltered corner they'd found at the top of the beach. "Get back here if you want any food!"

Lance glanced back — the other three were clustered around the basket, and he had a feeling J'sep wasn't exaggerating about 'any food.' "Better go," he said to J'sha, and told Amarth, _Don't drown._

Her snort said a great deal about what she thought of that instruction. _Can I drown Talath if he deserves it?_

_J'sha would be sad._

A shifting noise above their heads made Lance look up; Mesarth was draped over the edge of the bluff, his head resting on a rock. He shifted a little so he was looking directly down at Lance.

"J'mes, you coming?" J'sha paused a few steps further on.

"I'll be there right away," Lance said, and looked back at Mesarth. He had talked to Cr'stoff since the flight — obviously — but he hadn't actually interacted with Cr'stoff's dragon. Mesarth seemed to be waiting for something. "Hello?" Lance tried.

Mesarth rumbled quietly at him, and his eyes glowed in the late-afternoon sunlight. Then he shifted his attention away, looking out towards the water, and Lance felt like he'd been released. He shook his head at himself, and continued up the beach.

"Finally!" J'stin exclaimed, when Lance reached the rough circle of stones they'd dragged into place to sit on. "Did you get lost?"

Lance thought about throwing something at him, but he just shook his head and sat down instead. "Just got distracted," he said.

"You know, just because your _dragon_ flirts with blues doesn't mean you have to," J'stin said. "Unless you — ow!" He scowled at J'sep and rubbed his ear. "That hurt!"

"You'll live," J'sep said easily, and handed a cloth-wrapped parcel to Lance. "Here, open this up."

Lance did; the cloth held meat rolls, which he'd guessed from the smell. He took a couple and passed them on to J'sha, while J'sep pulled another bundle out of the basket. He peeked inside this one and wrapped it back up, saying, "That's for later."

"Ooh, is it bubbly pies?" Cr'stoff asked, making a grabbing gesture at it. "I can eat mine now!"

"Where'd you get all this?" J'sha asked, around a mouthful.

J'sep held his hands out, one of them holding a stoppered bottle. "I told Kellit we were coming here, and she said something about getting out of her hair and packed it for me. Isn't she great?"

"Did she know you meant," J'sha waved around the circle, "Us, and not you and her, when you said that?"

J'sep looked hesitant. "I thought so. I said _all_ of us."

"Besides, she packed enough food for five," J'stin declared, leaning over on one elbow. "Though I guess J'sep was coming either way…" He grinned and ducked the half-hearted swat J'sep aimed at him.

"No, she knew I meant you idiots," J'sep said. "Though now I'm thinking I should have let you all starve."

"Maybe you should get her something nice," Cr'stoff said. "Since you didn't bring her along. It'd be tragic if she had to kick your sorry hide out for not appreciating her."

"Hey," J'sep said. "I appreciate her."

"It might not be a bad idea if we all got her something, to say thanks," J'stin said slowly. "Yeah?"

Cr'stoff looked at him with his head tipped to one side. "I think I understand how you got that smooth reputation even though you're barely old enough to shave," he said admiringly. "J'sep, what would Kellit like?"

"From you? Oh no, I'm not giving you any ideas, Cr'stoff."

The conversation devolved quickly into an argument about which traders were due at the Weyr when, and who tanned the best leather for riding gloves — Lance was pretty sure that even J'sep had forgotten that the argument was originally about a present for Kellit. He shifted from sitting on his rock to sitting in the sand in front of it, leaning back, just listening to the good-natured squabbling.

Cr'stoff made some grand pronouncement about a pair of gloves that had chafed his knuckles — "I could have lost my fingernails, even!" — waving his arms in the air to illustrate his point, and Lance couldn't help snorting.

"He gets to you, doesn't he?" J'sha asked from next to him.

Lance craned his neck back to look at him, and saw he was also looking at Cr'stoff. Lance ducked his head to brush crumbs off his shirt, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"You know, I had the biggest crush on him when we were kids," J'sha continued, like he wasn't talking to anyone in particular. He laughed under his breath. "So about five years ago."

"What happened?" Lance asked, both wanting and not-wanting to hear the answer.

J'sha shrugged. "Oh, nothing. But I get where you're coming from." He waved one hand at Lance. "Not all of it, I mean. But I know how he gets to you." He stretched his arms over his head and then lay back on his elbows. "You should try this, it's comfy."

Lance didn't see how it could be — J'sha's spine was curved backwards at an angle that looked unnatural — but he did tip his head up, looking up to where afternoon had faded into twilight, and the stars were starting to come out.

"I like doing this," J'sha murmured from above him. "You look up like this, you realise how small your problems have to be."

"You have problems?" Lance asked, a little acidly.

"Any problems, doesn't matter whose," J'sha said. "There's just so much more out there than us, you know? The world's probably not going to end no matter what we do. So, you know… we might as well make the most of what we have. Where we are."

"Are you going to cheer me on and tell me I'm part of the Weyr now?" Lance asked suspiciously. "Because Cr'stoff already said that."

"Well, he's right," J'sha said. "Or were you planning on leaving?"

"No, of course not," Lance said immediately. "But — they're my family, at the Hold. I can't just leave them behind."

"Who says you have to?" J'sha asked. "You have a dragon, J'mes; you can visit whenever you want."

 _Do you think they would like me at the Hold?_ Amarth asked. Lance hadn't even noticed her coming out of the water and settling down behind them on the beach. _I would like to see it, at least._

"And then you can come back," J'sha added. "You can have both."

Lance tipped his head back again and looked at the brightening stars, partly blotted out by Amarth's head. "I suppose I hadn't thought of it like that before," he said.

He could just see J'sha's nod from the corner of his eye. "I thought not," J'sha said cheerfully, and sat up to rummage after something in the nearly empty basket.

 _I think they'd like you at the Hold,_ Lance said to Amarth. _Once they were used to you anyway._ He bit his lip and tried not to imagine the possible chaos that a dragon appearing unexpectedly might cause.

 _I would be very polite,_ Amarth assured him. She turned her head and blotted out a different section of the sky. _Mesarth is glad you are not angry with him._

 _Why would I be angry with him?_ Lance asked, but then considered it. If Mesarth hadn't flown Amarth — someone would have anyway. _There's nothing for me to be angry about, at you or him._

 _He is a smart dragon,_ she said. She sounded shy, and a little proud. _I like that._

 _You seemed to be having a fine time with Talath earlier,_ Lance teased, pushing away all thoughts of what that could mean to focus on the immediate.

 _He likes the water,_ she said defensively. _We were only playing._

_I know._

"All right, for you two having the private chat over there," Cr'stoff said loudly from the far side of their circle, "J'sep's too afraid Kellit will decide we're a much better prospect than he is if we give her anything, so he's letting us give her heartfelt thanks. And maybe a smile, if J'stin doesn't charm her too much. Or you, J'mes."

J'sep groaned. "I am _not_ afraid she'll leave me for you," he protested. "I'm much less annoying than any of you, and she'd be back in less than a day. Besides," he added, "She loves me for my flaws."

"Don't worry, J'sep, we do too," J'stin said. "So, you know, we already have lots in common with her!"

The scuffle that precipitated was cut short by a grumbling noise from one of the dragons overhead — Lance couldn't tell which one, but both J'stin and Jsep raised their heads to 'listen.'

"We should have brought a picnic for the dragons," J'sep said, standing up and stretching. "There has to be some way to do it."

"But they'd have to carry it, and then they'd be even hungrier from carrying," J'stin said, shaking out his legs. "Come on, the rest of you, the bottomless pits need feeding."

 _You should have told me you were hungry!_ Lance mock-scolded Amarth.

 _I am not!_ she said. _I am not huge like they are! Though a snack would be nice,_ she added reflectively.

 _Of course it would._ Lance grinned and used the rock behind him to push himself to his feet, then helped pack the empty wrapping cloths and the bottle back into the basket. J'sep shouldered it and started up the path to the top of the bluff where they'd left the harnesses away from the water, with the rest of them following.

Dragon harness was easier to work with when you could see the buckles, but at least the dragons could see, and it didn't take too long before all five of them were aloft, circling over the cove.

"And you know," Cr'stoff yelled over the rush of wings, "We never did take notes for the maps."

"We'll just have to come back, then," J'sha called back.

Someone — J'sep's Chenth, Lance thought — sent around an image of the Weyr from above, glowbaskets full and most activity quiet for the night. One by one, the others popped out of existence, leaving Lance and Amarth with the apprehension Lance still felt about going _between_.

 _I know what I am doing,_ Amarth told him. _And we will all end up in the same place, anyway. You're being silly._

Lance had to laugh at her scolding tone. _I guess I am. All right, then,_ he told her, _Let's go--_ Home, he supposed, and the word felt right. _Let's go home._

*

Lance didn't need to look to see who had joined him leaning on the wall by the feeding grounds; he'd already had the warning of Mesarth swooping down, and Amarth's outraged whistle as he pretended to try to steal her herdbeast.

_Get your own!_

Mesarth flipped his tail at her and hopped back into the air, darting in to snatch up his own meal before the herdbeasts could stampede. He brought it back over the wall and settled in near Amarth. Amarth eyed him and subtly shifted around so she was partly blocking his view of her food.

"You'd think there was a danger of the herd running out," Cr'stoff remarked.

Lance nodded. Neither of the dragons looked underfed; Amarth positively glowed, her hide bright green and glossy in the midday sunshine. 

"I keep thinking they have to slow down eventually," he said. "I mean, they _have_ stopped growing, haven't they?"

Cr'stoff tipped his head to one side. "Maybe they'll just keep going, until they're as big as bronzes." He paused for a moment. "J'stin will be furious."

Lance grinned. "I think he still measures Porath to make sure he isn't shrinking."

They stood for a few minutes and watched the messy scene in front of them — Lance suspected the two dragons were in some sort of competition as to which could cover themselves in the most gore while eating. He couldn't help being reminded of younglings smacking their hands into the gravy and then at each other.

"Amarth's probably going to rise again soon, I think," he said abruptly. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks, but ignored it, tipping his face up to the sunshine. 

"It's been about that long." Cr'stoff sounded cautious. "She looks well."

"Will Mesarth fly, when she does?" Lance still didn't quite dare turn his head, but he slid his eyes sideways so he could almost see Cr'stoff. They hadn't — again, since the first time, and Lance had been relieved to just let their friendship settle back into familiar tracks. Now, though — even if Lance knew more of the other dragonriders outside their tight group, it was in passing, and the thought of coming back to himself next to a stranger made his guts twist up.

There was a long silence from next to him. "You'll have to give me a clue as to the right answer here," Cr'stoff said. "I'm sure we can come up with an errand to do in Fort Hold or somewhere if you don't want him here, but we'll need some warning."

Lance swallowed. "I was hoping you'd be somewhere closer by, actually."

"Oh," Cr'stoff said. "Well, whether he's _able_ to fly will depend on whether he's stuffed himself too full to waddle," this last was directed at Mesarth, and Cr'stoff got back a mocking trill in response. "But we can certainly arrange to be around the Weyr for the next couple sevendays or so."

"I didn't mean you have to sit around waiting," Lance protested.

Cr'stoff shrugged. "Couriering messages never takes very long, and I can swap some with J'sep or J'sha if they're ones that require waiting for a reply. J'sep always appreciates the chance to get out of the Weyr." He turned around and boosted himself up on to the wall so he could see Lance more easily. "Besides." He drummed his heels against the wall. "I wouldn't mind. If it was for a good cause." Lance found himself the focus of those disconcertingly bright eyes. "If you want me to."

Lance made himself tell the truth. "I'd rather it was you than anyone else."

"Not the most ringing endorsement I've heard, but I'll take it." Cr'stoff studied Lance for another long moment, then hopped down to the ground again. 

"You know," he said, "I think we should do some more scientific investigation, since our last foray was so successful."

"Oh?" Lance waited to hear the suggestion. The 'last foray' had been a return to the isolated beach on a day off, and all five of them — ten counting the dragons — had spent the whole day swimming, eating, or napping in the sun. They had confirmed beyond a doubt that the beach was where they thought it was. "Should we let the others know?"

Cr'stoff shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I think you and I should investigate to see if there are any wild redfruit trees in—" he spun around, and came to rest pointing away from the Weyr, down slope. "That direction."

"There are," Lance said. "I flew over them just — well, recently, anyway."

"We should investigate," Cr'stoff carried on as if Lance hadn't spoken, "Whether they are just ripening now, and whether they are trees that someone familiar with Benden Weyr might know to have particularly tasty fruit." He looked back at Lance expectantly.

Lance thought this over. "I think that would be worth investigating. Let me go get harness."

Cr'stoff pointed a finger in the air. "I think we should do this investigation on foot," he said. He dropped his joking facade. "It isn't far, really. We'll get dusty, but that's all, and when we get back — well, I thought that being sticky and dusty, I'd have a bath. Maybe with company?" He looked hopefully at Lance.

Lance couldn't help remembering how matters had gone the last time they had — however briefly — shared a bath. "I'm not sure what you're looking for here, Cr'stoff."

"I think — well, I think a lot of things, but right now I think I could help scrub your back, and you could help scrub mine. I can't ever reach the itchy places." Cr'stoff studied him. "It doesn't have to be any more than that," he said quietly. "But I'd rather you weren't terrified the next time Amarth rises, and there's not much I can do about that on the wing, as it were."

"The dragons—" Lance started, as a half-hearted protest, gesturing to the two gore-smeared beasts now napping in the feeding grounds.

"You know, they _can_ actually get themselves clean," Cr'stoff said. "Clean enough, anyway."

Which was true enough. "This is important information-gathering, right?"

Cr'stoff's grin threatened to split his face. "Very important, I'm sure."

Lance made up his mind and pushed off the wall. "Amarth," he called aloud, "We're going to go do some important investigating."

She slitted one eye at him. _You are as silly as Cr'stoff and his dragon._

_Do you mind?_

_Have fun._ She stretched to her feet and nudged Mesarth on her way past. _**I** am going for a swim._ She looked back over her shoulder just before she sprang into the air, and Mesarth clambered hastily up to follow her.

"Do you ever feel," Lance said, watching them splash down into the lake one after the other, "like your dragon is smarter than you are?"

Cr'stoff cracked out a laugh. "All the time." He tugged at Lance's arm. "Come on; I'm not the only person who knows about those trees, and I don't want to have to fight for my investigation."

Lance smiled back at him. It felt a little strange, but he thought he meant it. "I think we'll get dusty and hot anyway," he said. "Even if we don't get redfruit out of it."

"The redfruit is a nice bonus," Cr'stoff told him. "But really, my plan is to need a bath."

Lance headed down the slope. "Then we'd better get started on it."

*


End file.
